


cross your sorry heart

by merlypops



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abusive Neil Hargrove, Abusive Parents, Anal Sex, Anger, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Car Sex, Declarations Of Love, Deepthroating, Depression, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Family Issues, First Time, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Period-Typical Homophobia, Physical Abuse, Resolved Sexual Tension, Self-Acceptance, Sexual Tension, Song Lyrics, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 15:04:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19770712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlypops/pseuds/merlypops
Summary: “Don't take it too hard, man,” Billy says softly, leaning in unnecessarily close, just to watch Steve get flustered. “Pretty boy like you has got nothing to worry about. Plenty of bitches in the sea.”It feels good to stand this close to Steve, in the same way that it feels good to get right up in his face during basketball; to see the sweat beading on his forehead, his stupid hair limp for once, his muscular thighs shifting under his tight-fitting shorts as they cling to him. Fuck, Billy wants to taste his skin.Billy falls in love with Steve and it hurts.Based on "Trouble" by Halsey.





	1. Back To Reality

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! I've just discovered the joys of Steve/Billy (yes, I'm very late to the party) so I decided to write this fic. I hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> Trigger warnings for period-typical homophobia, swearing, anxiety/depression, implied child abuse, references to physical violence, and explicit sexual content.

_Would you bleed for me?_

_Lick it off my lips like you needed me?_

_Would you sit me on a couch with your fingers in my mouth?_

_You look so cool when you're reading me._

Billy Hargrove is straight. He likes chicks; hates guys, especially whiny little pretty boys like Steve Harrington. He loves his dad; hates his sister; doesn’t give two fucks about the mother who abandoned him as a kid. Billy doesn’t care what people think of him; only gives a shit about his next cigarette, his next high, his next sip of burning alcohol. There is nothing soft about Billy; nothing but iron and anger and hatred. Billy has never been soft in his _life_.

Oh, and Billy Hargrove is a liar.

The world hates Billy and Billy hates it right back. He’s only satisfied when he’s driving too fast through the winding roads of Hawkins with a cigarette between his lips; when he’s got a warm, wet mouth wrapped around his cock and his fingers knotted roughly in soft hair; when his knuckles are splitting against the jaws of people who should have kept well enough away; when he’s shooting baskets in the gym and watching Harrington fall over himself in a useless attempt to keep up with Billy -

But _no one_ can keep up with Billy; not even golden boy Harrington. That’s why Billy’s been alone for so long. He’s a meteor hurtling straight for Earth and he’s burning up from the inside out. One day soon, there’ll be nothing left at all.

Billy’s breath is coming tight in his chest but he fights the burning ache down; writes it off as too many cigarettes and forces his gritted teeth into a smirk he doesn’t feel as he aims for the hoop. The ball goes in but only barely and Billy feels that same stab of self-hatred that his dad has been kindling inside him ever since he was a little kid.

It’s been like this since Billy’s mom left, tired of the beatings and desperate to start a new family. Billy was even weaker back then; too useless to protect her from his dad; too pathetic to make her realise that he belonged with her... that she should’ve kept him _safe_... but she only kept him safe from the waves and the burning sun, and the riptide. Never from his dad.

Maybe Billy’s mom knew he was a waste of space too. His dad reminded him of it often enough; called him a nasty, disrespectful, violent, no good, useless faggot who didn’t deserve the oxygen he was stealing. It must’ve been true because that was how the rest of the world treated him: like some angry, unpredictable, volatile asshole; worth a quick fuck, maybe, but nothing more than that. Nothing that actually _mattered_.

The hate is eating deep into Billy’s bones. Sometimes it feels like it’ll be poisoning him forever because, sure, maybe he _could_ fight against his lot in life; tear apart the image he’s spent so long cultivating since he fled from California but… honestly, what’s the fucking point?

There’s no nobility in faking manners where there aren’t any; no sincerity in pretending to give a shit about the dull normality of other people’s bullshit lives. Billy has never given a fuck about anyone before, or so he likes to tell himself. Every shitty thing that’s happened to him during his short life is no surprise. Why would he stop now when his world’s already on fire around him? He may as well go out with a bang.

The coach blows the whistle and, just like that, Billy is jarred brutally back to reality. The basketball game is over. The gym smells like sweat and rubber, and the tumultuous emotions of too many teenage boys cramped together. The coach is tapping his foot impatiently, scowling as Billy wrestles the ball from one of the mouth-breathers around him, not quite ready to leave just yet.

Billy ignores the coach, keeping the ball bouncing as his sneakers squeak on the fading wooden floor, brow creased. The others are heading for the changing rooms already, laughing and shouting, but Harrington lingers, hazel eyes locked on Billy.

“What’re you staring at, Harrington?” Billy taunts, sneer growing when the coach rolls his eyes and stalks off to smoke outside. “Try not to cream yourself at the sight of a _real_ basketball player.”

“Oh, fuck you, you shithead,” Harrington says without heat, stupid hair limp for once, frown growing. “Call me Steve.”

“Fuck you, Steve,” Billy says quietly, heart pounding as he shoves the ball into Steve’s chest hard enough that he stumbles backwards a few paces. “That what you wanted?”

“Thought you were gonna give me more tips,” Steve retorts, snapping now, eyes burning bright. “Thought I needed to plant my feet; draw a charge; stop moving my fucking feet.”

“How about you stop running your fucking mouth instead?” Billy asks, softer, harsher. “No wonder you’re such a bonehead.” He can’t shake the memory of the way Steve looked sprawled on the gym floor though; can’t forget the way his fingers curled with Billy’s; Steve’s glare and the strength of his grip as Billy sneered down at him like he was a puzzle to solve.

“Angry today, Hargrove,” Steve notes, eyes hardening. His shoulders are square, jaw jutted belligerently. Billy rolls his eyes, gives the basketball another shove for good measure as he barges past, elbow catching Steve in the ribs just for the thrill of the contact.

He catches Steve’s gaze as he stalks past, lips curving into a smirk, eyes cold even though they want to soften like melting snow. Steve’s lips part and Billy feels a fluttering in his stomach; fights the butterflies down with a brutality that makes his breath quicken as he speeds up, shoulders tense and defensive.

He needs a cold shower. He needs to forget the way Steve’s tongue darted out to wet his lips when he caught Billy looking at them.

The communal showers are mercifully empty by the time he steps under the spray, water pounding down hot around him as he lets it run down his face, plastering his curls to his brow. He’s already soaped himself up and he’s just standing there now, eyes tightly shut, struggling to keep his breathing from growing ragged as he thinks of the near-miss in the gym; the contempt on the coach’s face; of quite how badly he wants to shove Steve against a wall and fucking wreck him.

The door creaks open slowly and… and it’s Steve. Of _course_ it’s fucking Steve, here to screw with Billy’s head a little bit more. Billy stands frozen under the spray, naked and vulnerable, hoping only that the bruises from his last run-in with his dad are faded enough that they’re no longer visible.

Steve washes himself quietly under the spray nearby, eyes shut against the soap, hands sliding over his sun-kissed skin. The bubbles are running down from his hair, settling in the small of his back, the crack of his ass. Billy could touch him, if he wanted. Steve might even like it.

Fuck.

Billy has to think about his dad and Max, and all the dirty laundry waiting for him at home to keep his dick from getting hard. It’s difficult though. Steve looks so - _so_ -

“What’re you staring at, man?” Steve sounds small, self-conscious. There’s a fading hickey on his throat and Billy feels the fury rearing up inside him at the thought that prissy Nancy _fucking_ Wheeler left it there before she had a change of heart, and broke Steve under her heel.

“The princess left you, huh?” Billy murmurs, voice almost lost under the spray. He doesn’t know what he’s doing; only that he’s definitely doing _something_. Some of the irritation is bleeding from Steve’s face as Billy leans closer, heart creeping into his throat when he feels Steve’s gaze flickering over his skin, tracing the lines of Billy’s body - his hips and his ribs and his thick thighs - as Billy spreads more soap around, fighting hard to appear shameless.

Steve swallows reflexively when Billy catches his eye and Billy smirks, lips curving unpleasantly, heart pounding hard enough to hurt.

“Don't take it too hard, man,” Billy says softly, leaning in unnecessarily close, just to watch Steve get flustered. “Pretty boy like you has got nothing to worry about. Plenty of bitches in the sea.”

It feels good to stand this close to Steve, in the same way that it feels good to get right up in his face during basketball; to see the sweat beading on his forehead, his stupid hair limp for once, his muscular thighs shifting under his tight-fitting shorts as they cling to him. Fuck, Billy wants to taste his skin.

“Am I right?” he asks breathlessly, hands shaking. He reaches out, forces himself to turn Steve’s shower off instead of doing something stupid like gently touching his face. He makes sure to grin; makes sure to inject just a little swagger into his step; to make it clear that he’s only fucking with Steve... that he doesn’t _really_ care about him.

“I’ll be sure to leave you some,” Billy taunts, slapping Steve on the bicep as he eases past him. Feeling the warm curve of muscle against his palm sends something hot welling inside Billy and he presses his lips together hard, almost slipping in his haste to snatch his towel up; to escape before the lust inside him makes him do something he’d inevitably regret.

He’s breathing heavily by the time he makes it out into the changing room which, thankfully, is now empty. Billy leans against the cool metal of the lockers, panting a little as he presses his forehead against them, hard enough that the little ridges of metal hurt. It’s quiet, the sky grey and overcast through the high windows overhead, and Billy stands there for a long time, dripping water onto the floor, blue eyes falling shut in exhaustion.

Billy’s heart threatens to stop beating when he hears something emanating from the showers: a moan, the slick slide of Steve’s fist stroking his cock, his breathy gasps and what sounds distinctly like Billy’s name, broken and ragged but audible all the same.

Steve Harrington is touching himself.

Billy made him do that.

Fuck.

He’s screwed.


	2. Heat Of The Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thank you so much to everyone who read the last chapter! AO3 messed up and made it look like this was only going to be a oneshot but rest assured, I've planned out quite a few :')  
> I really hope you'll enjoy this chapter! Plenty more where this came from.

_Let's cause a little trouble._

_Oh, you make me feel so weak._

_I bet you kiss your knuckles_

_Right before they touch my cheek._

Billy drives a ‘79 Camaro. He loves his car more than most things on the planet but, right now, he couldn’t give a shit about it. The windows are fogged up from the heat rising inside the vehicle, his bare skin sticking to the leather seats as the pleasure bubbles sticky in his stomach. Billy has a fistful of long, dark, _stupid_ hair and a lapful of Steve Harrington, and he doesn’t know how it happened. He doesn’t understand any of it.

All he knows is that Steve’s tongue is in his mouth and his cock is buried in Steve’s ass, and Steve is making these pathetic little whiny noises as he rides Billy, face screwed up with pleasure-pain, eyelashes sticky with tears. Steve’s shirt is half-unbuttoned and his brow is creased, and his fingertips are pressing bruises into Billy’s skin as he clenches down around him, moaning loud enough that Billy’s worried someone’s going to hear; going to catch them going at it in his car like this, parked in a layby in the middle of fucking nowhere.

This is supposed to be casual but Steve’s panting his name with every thrust, back arching beneath Billy’s searching hands, cock leaking where the head rubs against the tensed muscles of Billy’s stomach. All of it’s hot – hotter than it has any right to be – and Billy can already feel the heat coiling tighter in his stomach; knows the end is approaching and fights it because the last thing he wants is for this to be over. He doesn’t want to think about what they’ve just done.

Steve’s whimpers draw him back and Billy tangles his fingers once more in all that ridiculous hair, twisting just enough that Steve tips his head back, throat exposed for Billy to suck bruises into. Steve’s thighs are pillowed over Billy’s, trembling with every thrust, his eyes tear-wet as these surprised sounding moans are punched out of him with every push of Billy’s cock.

Steve swears he’s done this before but Billy knows he’s lying; knows it’s the truth because he lied too. He told Steve this wasn’t his first time with a guy; that it didn’t have to _mean_ anything. (Billy is afraid it might mean everything instead.)

Steve’s whines grow louder when Billy hits the spot inside him that makes him see stars and… and fuck, Billy _never_ imagined it would feel this good. Steve’s ass tightens up around him, his jaw slack as he moans brokenly into Billy’s neck, cock oozing out pre-cum with every thrust. Billy’s fighting so hard to keep quiet but it’s impossible now because Steve feels so incredible around him, squeezing Billy’s cock so tight, arms wrapped around Billy’s shoulders. The small of Steve’s back is growing sweaty where Billy’s clenching his t-shirt in a shaking fist, his other hand flying over Steve’s leaking cock as Steve groans, hips bucking up, cum shooting out in thick white ropes as he quakes.

Billy has a moment to appreciate the absolute glory of Steve Harrington during orgasm – his head flung back, his throat patterned with hickeys to hide the one Wheeler left behind, his dark hair limp and sticking to his forehead, his muscles tensed and rippling – and then Billy’s gone too, hands bruising Steve’s hips, broken moans pouring from him, cock buried deep in Steve’s ass.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Billy groans, blue eyes fluttering shut, chest heaving with panting breaths. Steve huffs out a tired laugh, his face creasing as he winces at the ache he can feel, forehead falling to rest on Billy’s broad shoulder. Billy’s grip loosens on Steve’s hips and he squares his jaw, heart clenching a little at the hint of rawness he can see in Steve’s exhausted eyes when he finally raises his head. “Get out of my lap, Harrington.”

“Get your dick out of my ass then, Hargrove,” Steve quips, his face falling as a shaky groan escapes him when he sinks down stiffly onto the passenger seat, struggling back into his jeans. Billy pulls a face as he eases the condom off, fastening it in a knot and dropping it to deal with later. Steve grimaces, lips twitching faintly although his smile fades when Billy holds his gaze, forcing himself not to soften… not to draw Steve in for another kiss that can’t be written off as ‘heat of the moment’. God, Billy is so fucked.

“Where’s my shirt?” Billy asks, hands shaking a little. Steve’s eyes are tracing the muscles in his chest and it’s scaring Billy; terrifying him just how fucking hard he’s falling for a pretty boy like Harrington. Steve passes the shirt to him wordlessly and Billy grunts his thanks, slipping into it without making eye contact, his cheeks heating a little as his hands fall to zip up his jeans, tucking himself away.

“Billy –”

“Don’t,” Billy says, sharp and quick, panicked. “Tell me where you live and I’ll drive you home –”

“ _Billy_ ,” Steve repeats, a note of pleading in his voice as he shifts on the seat, wincing in pain. “Don’t you think we should –”

“Do you _want_ to walk home, pretty boy?” Billy snaps nastily, glaring at Steve. “Or are you gonna sit there, stop asking dumbass fucking questions, and tell me your address?”

Steve mutters it, sullen and miserable, and Billy hates himself a little more than usual as he turns the radio up as loud as it’ll go, rock music blaring through the speakers as Steve closes his eyes, resting his cheek against the cold glass.

Billy guides the Camaro through the streets wordlessly, still feeling shaky and vulnerable, untethered. He thought that fucking Steve once would be enough; that it would get all the messed up cissy bullshit out of Billy’s system but… fuck, he’s really gone and done it now. All he can think of is Steve’s ass squeezing down around him, Steve’s cock leaking over his fingers, Steve’s lips against his.

Billy’s dad will kill him if he finds out. He’ll _kill_ him.

There is a hard lump growing in Billy’s throat, impossible to swallow past, and he almost can’t breathe when he stops the car outside Steve’s house. It looks so nice, so frustratingly perfect with its neatly-painted front door and lace curtains. Fuck, Billy wants to smash the windows; tear their perfect flowers up, set fire to the bench outside overlooking the rose bushes. He doesn’t think he can _stand_ their white picket fence and the glimpse of Steve’s parents through the kitchen window: his dad sitting eating dinner at the table while his mom carries an apple pie over from the oven.

It’s like they’re parents from a TV show. It’s like they’re trying to suffocate Billy with how much jealous desperate longing he can feel.

“Well, this is me,” Steve says, awkward and tense now. Still, he doesn’t move and Billy’s heart speeds up, beating hard enough that it feels like his ribs are going to break. Steve’s hand twitches towards his and Billy jerks away like he’s been burnt.

“Get out of my car, Harrington,” Billy says through gritted teeth, shaking as he fumbles for a cigarette, shoving it roughly between his lips. He lights it clumsily, hating how hard it is to act like he doesn’t give a shit when Steve’s looking at him like that, with big scared hazel eyes and downturned lips. Billy’s anger rears its head again and he’s so fucking furious; with his dad, with Steve, but mostly with himself for letting this happen in the first place.

“ _Get. Out._ ”

Steve does as he’s told for maybe the first time ever but he still lingers on the sidewalk, fingers curled around the edge of the door, bottom lip tortured between his perfect teeth. Billy could knock them out with a hard enough punch. Billy could kiss him and refuse to let him leave.

“Billy,” Steve whispers, utterly miserable. “Billy, please. Just wait –”

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Billy hisses with enough venom that Steve recoils, flinching. His hurt expression smooths away after a moment, to be replaced with poorly-veiled anger, and Billy grits his teeth in a nasty smile because this at least is familiar. He’s used to scorn and contempt, and downright hatred. Anything softer than that is terrifying, not meant for the likes of him. Billy has never deserved kindness.

“Fine,” Steve snaps, hands balling into fists, buttons on his shirt mismatched as he takes a jerky step back, hair still rumpled from Billy’s fingers. “Screw you, Hargrove. Leave me the fuck alone.”

Billy’s eyes are stinging as he drives away, foot flattened on the gas, cigarette dangling ash where it’s hanging between his lips, ears still ringing from how hard Steve slammed the door. Billy's lungs are burning with the smoke he’s holding in and he lets it out in an explosive cough, embarrassed by how much it sounds like a sob… but Billy doesn’t cry. He _never_ fucking cries.

It doesn’t matter what shit happens to him; doesn’t matter how much of a bastard he knows he is: to Steve, to Max, to her stupid little friends. Billy is tough – he _has_ to be tough – because if he doesn’t have his tough guy act, he’ll have nothing left at all.

He’ll be bones to pick at, flesh to tear at, a punch bag just begging to be destroyed.

His dad will tear him apart.

Billy will be gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading :)  
> I'd love to hear what you thought and I'll try to update again soon <3


	3. Heart In His Throat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back with another update!  
> I hope you guys are enjoying this story so far - your comments and kudos mean the world!  
> Just a heads up, lots of internalised homophobia in this chapter so please remember: you're beautiful, you're amazing, you're valid.

_But I've got my mind made up this time_

_'Cause there's a menace in my bed._

_Can you see his silhouette?_

_Can you see his silhouette?_

_Can you see his silhouette?_

_And I've got my mind made up this time._

_Go on and light a cigarette._

_Set a fire in my head._

_Set a fire in my head tonight._

Two weeks have passed and Billy's rage is burning him up inside. He is always furious, his temper shorter than ever as he struggles to find distractions, snapping like a feral dog at the slightest provocation. His dad calls him pathetic and Max is scared to come near him, and Steve keeps shooting him these loaded glances when they spy each other in the parking lot; all melancholy and wounded, like those are things he lets himself feel. Billy can't imagine what that's like.

Maybe the worst part is that he knows he's being an asshole to Steve too. He _knows_ it but he can't help himself; not when he feels so vulnerable after fucking Steve like that… not when he realises just how soft he is for Harrington, like a fucking marshmallow.

Deep down though, Billy knows it isn't Steve he should be angry at. It's Billy's dad, who always talks about how emasculating it is for a man to lie with another man; who calls it sick and twisted and a sin, even though he's committed more sins in his life than Billy has drawn breaths.

Billy knows it's his fondness for Steve that makes him feel threatened but understanding the cause doesn't make it any easier to keep himself under control. He still wants to slam Steve roughly against the lockers whenever they pass each other in the corridors. He still wants to hiss poison at Steve until the softness in his hazel eyes has been stamped out.

The gentleness threatening to unfurl in Billy's heart is more horrific than anything else because he’s so fucking scared of getting hurt. He overcompensates with aggression because… fuck. _Fuck_. Billy doesn’t want to fight Steve at all. He wants to hold him, kiss him, plait little flowers into his stupid hair… but Billy won’t do that. He’s not some fucking faggot, no matter what his dad says. He isn’t going to be a weak queer piece of shit who gets knocked around in the school halls; not if Billy has any say in it.

He’s going to be harder and tougher than he’s ever been, and he’s going to crush anyone who looks at him wrong because it’s break or be broken. That’s the lesson Billy’s been learning throughout his life: show no weakness and hurt others before they can hurt you.

It doesn’t matter that Billy’s heart feels like it’s going to tear itself apart in his chest; doesn’t matter that all the lies and hatred are choking him. There’s nothing in all of Hawkins that could make him accept the fact that he’s attracted to guys… nothing but Steve Harrington.

Billy sighs heavily when he sees Steve approaching across the school parking lot, leaning back more heavily against the rough brickwork of the science block. He shoves his leather jacket aside, fumbling in the pockets of his jeans for his crumpled packet of cigarettes. He jams one between his lips, hopes it’ll be enough to keep Steve from trying to start a conversation with him now that Billy’s too tired to run.

His hand shakes a little when he raises his lighter but it won’t catch, clicking uselessly. A growl of frustration escapes him as he forces the useless lighter roughly back into his pocket, stunned into silence by the lump of angry tears building in his throat. Steve steps closer, hesitating for a moment before he leans against the wall beside Billy, close enough that their arms bump together.

“Billy,” Steve says softly, tender. He reaches over, lighting Billy’s cigarette wordlessly, the pad of his thumb brushing Billy’s jaw subtly as he lowers his hand. Steve’s gaze flickers back to the rows of cars in front of them, reflecting the afternoon sunlight. A quiet sigh escapes Steve as the tension leaks from his shoulders and he presses a tiny bit closer, until his thigh is brushing Billy’s too.

They stand in silence together, closer than they’ve been in what feels like forever. Billy closes his eyes, head tipped back against the wall as he smokes, inhaling raggedly. Steve lingers beside him, hands buried in his pockets, expression strangely gentle when their last shouting match is taken into account.

“You come over here for a reason, pretty boy?” Billy asks at last, blue eyes narrowing as he glances towards Steve, heart racing faster. Steve looks back at him evenly, heart-shaped lips quirking faintly into a crooked smile.

“Yeah, I did,” Steve replies, calm as anything, smirk growing. “Stop pretending to be some tough guy, Hargrove. It’s pathetic.”

“Oh yeah?” Billy growls, stalking closer to pin Steve up roughly against the wall, hard enough that his head hits the bricks. A scowl is deepening on Billy’s face as his cigarette dangles from between his full lips, his heart in his throat. Steve’s dazed hazel eyes flicker down to Billy's mouth, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he swallows audibly. “This feel like an act to you, Harrington?”

Steve’s head must’ve been hurting from where Billy had knocked it against the bricks but he still grins, grinding his hips forwards a little, just to hear the breath catch in Billy’s throat.

“Yeah, it does,” Steve whispers, breath hot against Billy’s skin, lips grazing the hard line of Billy’s jaw as Steve pushes him away with a palm spread on his muscular chest. “Stop bluffing.”

Steve glances over Billy’s shoulder; sees that no one is looking their way and risks pressing the briefest of kisses to the corner of Billy’s mouth. Billy’s hands curl into fists but he lets Steve get away with it unscathed, breath coming too fast, heart skipping a beat in the cage of his ribs.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Billy,” Steve breathes, almost too soft to hear. “I wanna see the real you.”

“You’ll regret that,” Billy promises, fingers curling in the collar of Steve’s denim jacket as he hauls him behind the building, where it’s safe to kiss him deeper and hotter.

“No, I won’t,” Steve murmurs, smile growing. “Not if you don’t _make_ me regret it.”

“Fuck,” Billy mutters, rolling his eyes as he kisses Steve quiet, cigarette held delicately between two fingers. “Now you’ll _definitely_ regret it.”

Steve’s hands slip down to cover Billy’s ass, grinning too wide to deepen the kiss.

“Shut up,” Steve mumbles, lips trailing teasingly down Billy’s throat.

Billy shuts up. He doesn’t even argue; lets Steve get away with being a mouthy shit for a second time that afternoon.

He isn’t sure why.

Maybe it’s better not to think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I can't wait to write more for you all <3  
> Please let me know what you thought :)


	4. Flayed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone! This chapter is way longer because I got carried away writing Harringrove being Soft Boys but hopefully you'll all enjoy this! I hope it feels in character <3

_Would you lie for me?_

_Cross your sorry heart and hope to die for me?_

_Would you pin me to a wall?_

_Would you beg or would you crawl?_

_Stick a needle in your hungry eyes for me?_

Billy turns up at Steve's house with a busted lip and anger in his heart. It’s a long walk but his eye is rapidly swelling shut and the growing headache in his temples would’ve made driving dangerous. He can’t even smoke with how painfully his bottom lip is stinging, split open under his father’s knuckles. The fear and misery wrapped around Billy’s lungs makes breathing difficult, and a tiny part of him thinks his problems might be solved if he just stopped.

Steve opens the door after what feels like a long time, brow creasing when he sees Billy standing there, chin streaked with dried blood, blue eyes burning with furious tears which he refuses to acknowledge. His shoulders are slumped, his arms wrapped around himself protectively. He looks smaller than he ever has before and a lump rises in Steve’s throat as he reaches gently for Billy’s denim-clad shoulder, drawing him into the house.

“For fuck’s sake, Billy,” Steve breathes, grimacing. “Come inside.”

Billy stumbles into the warmth, toes his boots off on the mat because they’re caked in mud and he doesn’t want to get Steve in trouble. Billy is too tired to fight... too tired to question why exactly he decided to come here when he’s in such a state. He’s aching, ribs throbbing dully from the bruises blooming across his skin. He should be used to beatings by now but they never get any easier. He never learns.

“Your dad do this?” Steve asks quietly, teeth gritted, eyes too bright with tears. Billy wants to mock him for it but, suddenly, he can’t see past the tears welling boiling in his own sore eyes. He squares his bruised jaw; thinks about lying and decides against it because Steve can see through his bullshit in a second.

“Yeah,” Billy says after a pause, voice gravelly, chest tight with anxiety and rage. His bruised face twists, eyes narrowing when he sees Steve taking careful stock of his injuries. “See?” Billy whispers bitterly, one shaking finger jabbing Steve’s chest beneath the pale blue sweater he’s wearing. “Knew you wouldn’t wanna see the real me.”

“Wrong again,” Steve whispers, hand curving warmly around the back of Billy’s neck as he leans in to kiss his cheek. Billy flushes faintly, eyes dropping to the floor, scared by the butterflies that come alive in his stomach when he feels Steve’s thumb smoothing gently over his skin, the touch soothing and warm. “Never thought I’d see the day,” Steve murmurs as his free arm slips comfortingly around Billy’s waist. “Billy Hargrove, too shy to speak.”

“Fuck off,” Billy mumbles out of habit, sore lip aching when his mouth twitches into a faint smile. “You’re such an asshole, Harrington.”

“Takes one to know one,” Steve says sweetly, crooked smile curving his lips. “Now c’mon, Hargrove; let’s go clean the blood off that pretty face. You look like the guy from An American Werewolf In London.”

“I like that film,” Billy says, thoughtful. Steve hums, face softening as he leads Billy into the kitchen and nudges him gently into a chair at the dinner table, before he goes to fetch warm water and a cloth. “Watched it with Max last year. Gave her nightmares.”

Steve smiles, eyes crinkling fondly in the pale grey light filtering in from behind the net curtains as he returns to Billy. His dark hair is sprayed to within an inch of its life, as ridiculous as ever. Billy reaches out to touch it unthinkingly, trembling when Steve leans into it for a moment, his hands resting warm on Billy’s knees where he’s crouched down in front of him, the bowl of warm water forgotten for the moment.

They’ve fought so many times in the past - been so _fucking_ horrible to each other - that it feels weird to be sitting here together like this now, so close and calm, without the poison tainting their words. Billy forgets to feel angry or scared or sad or in pain when Steve is gazing up at him like that, hazel eyes so soft, hand shaking when he reaches to stroke Billy’s jaw gently.

“Sit tight,” Steve murmurs, raising the damp cloth as he starts to wash away the dried blood on Billy’s face. “Let’s see what the damage is.” Billy closes his eyes, refusing to wince at the stinging pain he can feel as Steve carefully cleans his wounds. It’s quiet in the kitchen, the only sounds their soft breaths and the occasional drip of water where Steve hasn’t quite turned the faucet off.

The bruising isn’t as bad as it looked once the blood is gone and, although Billy’s bottom lip still looks sore, it’s already stopped bleeding which can only be a positive. Steve sits back on his heels, grimacing a little at how soaked the front of Billy’s shirt is from Steve enthusiastically drenching the cloth. Billy glances down, following his gaze and snorting faintly.

“Might need to borrow a shirt,” he says, tongue darting out to run across his bottom lip as he smiles, slow and hesitant. Steve swallows, hands sliding from Billy’s knees to his thighs, running smoothly over the denim. Steve is looking at him - _really_ looking at him - and Billy feels raw under the warmth of his gaze. Flayed.

“You're so fucking beautiful, man,” Steve whispers, taking in Billy’s golden curls and full lips; his sharp jaw and high cheekbones, and the vulnerability in his sky blue eyes that he usually hides behind simmering anger. Steve stretches up slowly, giving time for Billy to move away before he presses a gentle kiss to his lips… but Billy doesn’t move away. He leans closer instead, a weak sound escaping him that he’ll fervently deny as his trembling fingers thread through Steve’s ridiculous hair.

The kiss is soft and slow, and it feels so right that Billy almost can’t breathe with the emotions building intoxicatingly in his chest. There’s a smear of his blood on Steve’s lower lip when they finally draw apart and Billy smears it away gently with the pad of his thumb, heart fluttering when Steve presses a kiss to his palm. His heart flutters even worse when Steve kisses his nose too and Billy huffs out a laugh, pushing Steve gently away with his socked foot.

Steve grins, sitting sprawled there on the kitchen floor as he crosses his legs at the ankle, exuding an easy confidence that reminds Billy briefly of the days when ‘King Steve’ ruled the school… but he won’t get angry now. He doesn’t see the point when he’s got Steve gazing up at him like that, pretty eyes all warm and glitter-soft, watching Billy like he’s something worth looking at.

“What was that for, pretty boy?” Billy murmurs, the words coming out softer than he would have liked. Steve hums, smile gentler now as his eyes trace the bruises on Billy’s face. He shrugs, smoothing his hair back distractedly as Billy holds his gaze, teeth worrying at his sore lip nervously.

“You came to my house when you felt shitty,” Steve replies thoughtfully, face softening. “That’s cute.”

Billy scoffs, rolling his eyes and hoping the blush rising in his cheeks will be written off as something less humiliating.

“Bet that just warms the cockles of your heart,” Billy taunts, aiming for a sneer although he’s fairly certain it doesn’t turn out anywhere near harsh enough. “Want me to make you a mixtape, Harrington? Want me to pick you flowers and take you out on dates?”

“Asshole,” Steve mutters, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he looks away. Billy hums, pleased with himself as he reaches to poke Steve in the thigh with his toes.

“That wasn’t a no, pretty boy,” he points out, grinning even despite the pain in his lip. “Wanna catch a film with me next week? Is that what you wanted?”

“The Breakfast Club is showing now,” Steve says slowly, lips curving into an unwilling smile as he continues to avoid Billy’s knowing gaze. “If you think you can leave your tough guy act outside the theatre, that might be fun.”

“Deal,” Billy says at once, eyes narrowing, lips quirking, even as he desperately tries to work out how he just agreed to that. “Provided you stop being such a whiny bitch.”

Steve curls his fingers around Billy’s ankle, shooting him a calculative look. “If you weren’t hurt, Hargrove, I’d drag you off that chair,” Steve says darkly. “You’d be on the floor right now if you didn’t look so sorry for yourself.”

“Wanna make out on the kitchen floor, do you?” Billy murmurs, tone teasing, even as his heart aches a little at Steve’s words. “You old romantic.”

“Damn, Billy, you wanted _romance_?” Steve counters, eyes glinting as he pushes himself upright, fingers carding through Billy’s soft hair. “You should’ve said.”

Steve’s still smiling a little when he returns the bowl to the sink, tipping the bloodied water away before he turns the tap off properly once and for all. The sleeves of his jumper are rolled back, exposing the sun-kissed skin of his wrists. He looks like he needs to be kissed again.

It dawns on Billy slowly just how warm and safe he feels sitting here in the comfort of Steve’s kitchen. It feels like more than he deserves and he withdraws a little, recoiling from comfort and joy the way he always does. Those emotions are for other people; for Steve and Max, and Billy’s mom when she was still around. Billy’s never felt worthy of softness.

“I... I think I should go back home,” he says slowly, refusing to meet Steve’s gaze as Billy stares down at his knuckles, the skin smooth and undamaged… painful proof that he was too much of a pussy to fight back when his father was tearing into him. “My dad -”

“Your dad’s a fucking bastard, Billy,” Steve says, the harsh words at odds with how gentle his voice is. “I’m not sending you back there tonight.” He takes Billy’s hands, drawing him up so that they’re standing chest to chest on the kitchen floor. “My folks are out of town tonight,” Steve murmurs, hazel eyes pleading. “Stay here with me.”

“But…” Billy’s pulse is roaring in his veins, his heart aching in his chest as his shaking fingers twist in Steve’s sweater, keeping him close. “But Max is still there with him.”

“Okay,” Steve says, apparently unfazed. “Will she be safe? Because if not, I’ll happily drive to pick her up, Hargrove. You’re still not going home tonight.”

Billy’s heart threatens to melt in his chest as he presses a lingering kiss to Steve’s jaw, hands pressing flat against Steve’s back to prolong the contact.

“Max should be fine,” he says honestly, tired and aching. “She’s better at keeping her head down than me... and her mom should be home soon." He laughs suddenly, humourless and small as he curls in on himself. “Plus, dad still loves her so there’s less chance he’ll try to beat the shit out of her.”

Steve’s purposefully calm expression crumples a little but he fights against it valiantly, drawing Billy in for what might _almost_ be described as a hug. Billy tucks his head under Steve’s chin and Steve holds him closer, pressing a soft kiss to the golden curls as they stand together in silence.

“You’re making my sweater all wet,” Steve complains after a long moment, adopting a wounded tone that makes Billy smile.

“Well, I seem to remember that being your fault, Harrington,” Billy retorts, calming a little in Steve’s gentle grip as he tilts his head back to meet Steve’s gaze, unsure of how he feels at being just a tiny bit smaller than him. “You soaked my shirt while you were playing doctor.”

“Better get you changed into something else then,” Steve says in a softer voice, his hazel eyes flickering over the damp denim jacket and bloodstained white vest. Billy’s jeans appeared not to have escaped being splashed too and Steve looks sheepish as he takes Billy’s hand, towing him gently towards the stairs. “I’m sure we can find something of mine that’ll fit.”

Billy follows along meekly as they start up the carpeted stairs together, his cheeks heating just a little when he realises they're still holding hands. Billy can tell Steve is fighting a smile by the curve of his cheek; by the way he presses his lips together as he pads along in his socks, lowering Billy's guard with little more than the sparkle in his hazel eyes.

He's so caught up in the wonder of Steve Harrington that he isn't paying attention when they reach the top of the stairs and he lurches forwards unsteadily, a gasp torn from him which sends his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Steve catches him easily, his arm snaking lightning fast around Billy's waist as he rolls his eyes fondly.

“Did you forget to plant your feet, Hargrove?” Steve teases, lips curving easily into a grin. Billy huffs, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.

"Was just a little distracted actually," he disagrees mildly, aiming for an airy tone and _mostly_ managing it. He bites his sore lip to keep from smiling when Steve cocks his head to one side curiously, eyes sparkling.

"Oh yeah?" he murmurs. "See something you like?"

"Maybe," Billy admits, stealing another glimpse of Steve's soft lips and the way his dark hair perfectly frames his handsome face, and grimacing as he feels himself blush hotter.

Steve looks so smug in that moment as the smirk grows on his face that Billy shoves him weakly, swallowing past the butterflies beating inside him. Steve grins wider as he leads Billy into his bedroom, shutting the door behind them and pressing Billy gently against the wood, Steve's hands sliding down to settle on his waist.

"You shithead," Billy says breathlessly, still embarrassed that Steve can make him _feel_ so much. “I thought you were gonna get me some dry clothes.”

“Well, we’ve gotta get you out of the wet ones first, right?” Steve says suggestively and… yeah, he kinda has a point. Billy smiles, presses closer to capture Steve’s lips in a kiss. It feels safe in his bedroom; feels like there’s no reason to hide the way Billy’s pulse is racing in his veins as Steve’s fingers ease gently through his curls, gentle and comforting.

“C’mon, Hargrove,” Steve murmurs against Billy’s lips, drawing back as he taps the bloodstained vest clinging damply to Billy’s form with his fingertip. “Outta those wet clothes. You’re shivering.”

“I am not,” Billy disagrees, just for the hell of it. He wriggles out of them, aiming for his usual cockiness but not quite able to exude it when he can feel the ache of the bruising spreading across his ribs. Steve’s smile turns sad when he turns to face Billy but he still balls up the sweatshirt he’s holding, aiming for Billy’s head and missing by miles when it unrolls in mid-air.

“See?” Billy pouts, bending to retrieve the garment. “This is why I’m better at basketball than you. Your aim’s shit.”

While Steve is pretending to be offended, Billy tugs the sweatshirt on, eyeing it doubtfully as his thumb smooths curiously over the teal-coloured material. It’s not at all to Billy’s style but he manages a faint smile anyway, not wanting to hurt Steve’s feelings as he rolls the sleeves back a little to free his hands. The sweatshirt is much too big for him - Billy’s always preferred tight clothing - but he doesn’t hate the way it feels; kinda likes that it falls down to mid-thigh, cosy and soft, and smelling of Steve… all comforting and safe, the way home is _supposed_ to feel.

“Aww, look at you!” Steve is grinning widely, hazel eyes twinkling as Billy grimaces, stepping into the sweatpants laid out for him on the bed. “You look all cuddly now, Hargrove,” Steve notes, looking quite pleased with himself. He lifts one of Billy’s golden curls teasingly, his face brightening when Billy huffs, rolling his eyes, heart pounding in his chest. “You’re adorable.”

“I could still break you, Harrington,” Billy promises, lips quirking into a smirk.

“Oh, I know,” Steve murmurs as he leans back casually against his desk. “I could never fight someone who would so clearly be at a disadvantage.” It’s a stupid joke - they’ve fought before after all - but Billy still finds himself grinning, uncaring of the way it makes his sore lip throb. “You’re like a princess with all that golden hair.”

Billy’s smile tightens for a moment as he remembers their conversation in the showers about Nancy ditching Steve but… well, he hasn’t mentioned her since. Steve doesn’t even seem to _care_ when he’s got Billy in his room like this, wearing his clothes, lips swollen with kissing. Maybe Steve’s moved on.

The knowledge sends Billy’s heart racing faster than ever but he doesn’t fight it for once; doesn’t feel the need when he can see the way Steve’s watching him, so gentle and fond, even despite the barbs they’re exchanging.

“C’mon now, Harrington,” Billy taunts, blue eyes glinting. “You could never win a fight anyway.” He laughs when Steve glares, heart melting in his chest.

“Come over here,” Steve says sulkily from where he’s thrown himself dramatically onto his bed, rumpling the sheets as he shuffles towards the pillows. “I’m going to cuddle you to death, you smug fucker.”

“What a terrifying way to go,” Billy retorts but he still joins Steve on the mattress, crawling into his arms, and that’s where they stay for what remains of the afternoon, lying tangled together as Steve plays his favourite records and Billy gently mocks him for their differing music tastes, all while secretly enjoying the new songs he discovers. It’s comfortable and companionable, and the sky darkens outside far too quickly in Billy’s opinion.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me staying over tonight, Harrington?” Billy asks hesitantly when Steve returns from the bathroom, looking a little concerned to find Billy sitting hunched up on the bed in the dark, arms wrapped tightly around himself. “Your folks are away. You should be having a party or something; not hiding here with me. Don’t you wanna see your friends?”

“Nope,” Steve says, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite hide the worry from his hazel eyes as he rejoins Billy on the bed. “I want you to be okay. I’d pick you over a party any day, Hargrove.”

“That’s gay,” Billy mutters, because he’s a fucking idiot. Steve snorts, rolling his eyes as he wraps his arms around Billy, pulling him back down onto the mattress.

“Well, yeah,” Steve mutters, pressing a kiss to his jaw that makes Billy shiver. “This would be kinda awkward if not, no?”

“Maybe,” Billy concedes, slightly ashamed of himself. He hates it when bullshit like that slips out of his mouth because it’s yet more proof of just how deeply ingrained his dad’s shitty behaviours are. Billy doesn’t _want_ to be like Neil Hargrove; it’s the last thing he wants. He just doesn’t know how to change.

Steve is watching him with a softness which is probably far more than Billy deserves but he clings to it anyway, scared to let go of the one last positive influence in his life. He wonders if spending enough time with Steve - certainly no punishment - will go some small way to smoothing out Billy’s rougher edges and he finds himself hoping that this will be the case.

He’s tired of being so angry all the time. He’s tired of hating himself.

“You okay, Billy?” Steve asks softly through the darkness, his tone gentle and tentative, like he can tell Billy’s going through a lot right now. He brushes something wet from Billy’s cheek, his expression softening further when Billy closes his damp eyes tightly, refusing to acknowledge the bitter tears escaping. “Wanna get ready for bed?”

“Yeah,” Billy mumbles as he pushes himself upright, turning away to dry his face with the sleeve of the sweatshirt. A heavy sigh escapes him when Steve presses a kiss to his shoulder and Billy melts into it, wishing this didn’t feel so much like everything he’d been missing up until now.

“C’mon, pretty boy,” Billy mutters, embarrassed. “Can’t stay up too much later. You need your beauty sleep.”

“Asshole,” Steve murmurs fondly as he tangles their fingers together, leading Billy towards the bathroom. “If you’re nice, I’ll dig out a spare toothbrush you can use.” Billy lays a hand over his chest, fluttering his eyelashes sarcastically.

“You’re too kind to me, pretty boy,” he murmurs, only half-joking. “Next thing I know, you’ll be offering me _toothpaste_.”

Steve laughs, the sound bright as it lights up his dark bedroom, and Billy’s heart is still fluttering in his chest when he rinses his mouth out in the sink, settling back against the edge of the bathtub as Steve does the same. Steve fixes his hair in the mirror when he straightens up and Billy smiles faintly as he ambles closer to rumple it with his fingers.

“You’re so annoying, Hargrove,” Steve says, sighing irritably. His hazel eyes are still sparkling though and Billy hums, shrugging as he leans in to kiss Steve against the edge of the sink. Steve melts into it in seconds, his fingers winding through Billy’s soft curls as his tongue explores Billy’s mouth, drawing a weak moan from him.

Steve offers a crooked smile when they finally part to breathe, his dark hair flattened by Billy’s fingers as he smooths his hands gently over the teal-coloured sweatshirt, careful not to knock Billy’s bruised ribs. There’s a moment where they’re just looking at each other, eyes soft and tired, hands warm where they’re holding each other close.

“Come to bed,” Steve murmurs and Billy’s heart skips a beat in his chest because... _fuck_ , he wishes he could hear those words every night for the rest of his life. Steve’s hazel eyes twinkle as he reaches past Billy to turn the light out, plunging them into darkness as his arm wraps around Billy’s waist, leading him back towards the cosiness of his bedroom. “You wanna borrow some pyjamas, Billy?”

“Nah,” Billy says, grinning sheepishly. “I like sleeping naked, pretty boy.”

“Lucky for me then,” Steve murmurs, cheeks heating a little as he pushes his bedroom door shut with a click of finality. “Well, don’t let me stop you, Hargrove.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Billy teases, slipping out of the sweatshirt and sweatpants as a blush heats his cheeks. He drapes them over the back of Steve’s desk chair when he’s done, fiddling with the hem of his boxers as he glances at Steve with more shyness than he’s used to feeling. Steve is already curled up in bed, chin propped up on his palm as he watches Billy fondly. The corner of the blankets are folded back invitingly and Billy clambers between the sheets quickly, muscles aching as the bruises on his skin protest the movement.

“Hey,” Steve greets him through the darkness, his palm settling warm on Billy’s hip. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Loser,” Billy says, tucking his head under Steve’s chin as he nestles closer into his warmth. Steve is smiling a little - Billy can feel it when a gentle kiss is pressed to his forehead - and he shivers, content to just be held as he breathes in the comforting smell of Steve surrounding him.

It sort of hurts that Billy can’t feel this safe in his own home but he’s too tired to be scared or angry about it now; too tired to be furious about the shit his dad’s put him through. He’s too tired to think about it anymore. Billy just wants to feel safe and he wishes that didn’t feel like too much to ask.

Steve is making him feel safe though, with his warm touches and the way he’s cuddling Billy without any ulterior motives, something that’s unheard of from the people who usually allow him into their bed. It’s scary but Billy thinks he might do anything for Steve in that moment.

What’s even scarier is that he’s pretty certain Steve would do anything for him too.

Billy kisses Steve with something like desperation, eyes stinging with tears which he refuses to let fall. He needs the distraction; needs Steve to push aside his nobility and make Billy forget how much he’s hurting. Steve kisses him back automatically but he draws away after a moment, gently cradling Billy’s bruised jaw as he peers down at him through the darkness, clearly trying to gauge what Billy _needs_ rather than what he wants.

“Please,” Billy whispers, broken. Steve groans, kisses him harder before his lips trail down Billy’s throat, heading for the skull tattoo on his shoulder. His palm settles warm on Billy’s thigh and Billy shifts, fighting down the stupid whine he can feel building inside him when Steve’s hand slips to palm him through his boxers.

Billy’s hands settle shakily on Steve’s shoulders, his grip tightening a little as he prepares to roll them over, taking control but… something stops him. Something keeps him lying there limp and vulnerable under the warmth of Steve’s body, and Steve seizes the opportunity without hesitation, his hazel eyes glinting as he presses a soft kiss to Billy’s jaw.

“Why do _you_ always have to be in charge?” Steve murmurs and… and fuck, Billy’s never got so hard this quickly in his life. It’s so dark in the room - dark enough to hide the way his cheeks are flaming - and he groans when he feels Steve’s fingertips rolling teasingly over his cock, sending his hips bucking up uselessly.

“I - I _don’t_ ,” Billy gasps out, head falling back onto the pillows as Steve gazes down at him, lips quirked into a smile, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “By all means, go ahead, pretty boy.”

“That’s what I hoped you’d say,” Steve mumbles as he ducks his head, sucking a kiss into Billy’s collarbone. He trails lower all the time, focusing on the places that make Billy’s breath hitch as his trembling fingers tangle in Steve’s hair. Billy whines when Steve sucks a hickey into his thigh and is instantly mortified by the sound, at least until he hears Steve’s groan in response as he reaches down clumsily to touch himself, his hips jerking into his fist.

“You sound so hot,” Steve says breathlessly and Billy feels the heat in his stomach tighten as the last of his misery melts away. “Can’t believe you’re here.”

Billy barely has time to process this remark before Steve’s parting his lips around Billy’s cock, leaning in to take as much of it into his mouth as he can. He wraps his fingers around the rest, letting out a muffled groan when he hears the moans pouring out of Billy as Steve starts to jerk his fist.

It feels so good; doesn’t seem to matter that Billy’s had better blow jobs in the past because this is _Steve_ and Steve is rapidly becoming everything to him.

The whines pouring out of Billy’s throat refuse to quieten, no matter how embarrassed he gets, but somehow that only makes it hotter; the fact that he’s so vulnerable and needy, and Steve is still here, giving him what he needs and taking care of him the way Billy wished someone would all along.

Steve draws back to catch his breath, still rolling his fingers teasingly over Billy’s leaking cock as he presses a kiss to the tensed muscles of his stomach.

“Pull my hair if you like,” Steve mumbles, blushing as the words leave him, pupils blown when Billy’s fingers tangle tighter in the dark locks. “And… and you can fuck my face, if you want,” Steve offers, embarrassed but _so_ turned on. “I can take it.”

Billy isn’t sure whether to laugh or moan at those dirty words because… fuck, who _wouldn’t_ want that from a pretty boy like Steve Harrington? It’s hardly like Billy’s going to say no.

A broken sound escapes him when he feels the warmth of Steve’s mouth sliding over him once more and Billy moans, fingers tightening in Steve’s dark hair. His hips rock up and, after an initial pang of worry where he’s concerned he’ll hurt Steve, he remembers the words Steve said; remembers him reassuring Billy that he can take it. The girls Billy’s been with before have always been a little squeamish about deepthroating but Steve doesn’t seem to care about the tears leaking down his cheeks or the flush spreading down his throat as he forces himself down on Billy’s cock.

He’s so willing as Billy fucks his throat and it’s the hottest thing Billy’s ever seen. The heat bubbling in his stomach is already threatening to overwhelm him and he can’t keep quiet; can’t help himself when Steve’s moaning around his dick, the vibrations driving Billy wild.

Steve lets out a choking sound when he takes Billy too far and Billy frowns past the lust burning through him, shoving Steve back clumsily. Billy shudders at the cold air suddenly surrounding his leaking cock as Steve inhales breathlessly, pressing a wet kiss to Billy’s thigh.

“Please,” Steve mumbles, lips swollen, tongue hot when he takes Billy’s cock in his fist, licking a stripe over the sensitive skin. “I like it. I wanna.” Billy trembles, vulnerable and desperate as he gazes down at Steve through heavily-lidded eyes, his hips rocking a little with every stroke of Steve’s fist over his cock. “C’mon, Hargrove,” Steve pleads, his hands slipping to cover Billy’s muscular thighs as he stares up at him with those big, beautiful hazel eyes. “ _Please_.”

“Okay,” Billy agrees shakily, slumping back against the pillows as he covers his tear-wet eyes with his wrist. He whines when Steve takes him back into his mouth, teasing the slit with his tongue before he presses forwards, deeper and deeper, until his nose is pressed flat to the curls growing at the base of Billy’s cock.

Steve’s throat is a tight fluttering heat around Billy and he moans helplessly, his heart pounding fit to burst when he catches Steve’s gaze, his shaking fingers still tangled in all that dark hair. Steve hums approvingly when Billy twists the locks between his fingers and… fuck, that’s all it takes.

Billy comes undone with what sounds embarrassingly like a sob, shuddering through his orgasm as the pleasure leaves him gasping and weak. Steve crawls up beside him, expression strangely bashful now as he slumps down onto the crumpled sheets and tucks his flushed face into Billy’s neck, clearly feeling shy. Steve kisses the sweaty skin there as he fists himself, fingers wrapped tight around his cock, whimpering and groaning as his hips jerk into his fist, cheeks damp with tears as he trails messy kisses over Billy’s skin.

He’s still hiding his face away from Billy’s gaze and it becomes obvious in that moment just how insecure Steve truly is. His confidence is all an act – just like Billy – but somehow that only makes Billy want to hold him closer; makes him want to build Steve up so that _Steve_ sees how good he is too, the way he deserves.

Steve comes with a low groan, shivering violently as Billy wraps an arm comfortingly around his waist, keeping him close. Steve’s hair is in disarray, cheeks rosy, hazel eyes sparkling but heavy with exhaustion. There’s a moment when the pleasure has ebbed away where they hold each other’s gaze and Billy is scared for a moment; afraid that this is all Steve wanted from him.

Billy feels more vulnerable than he ever has as his teeth sink into his knuckle because it almost _hurts_ to keep from telling Steve how much he loves him. Billy’s managed to smother the truth up until this moment but the realisation is painfully evident now and Billy feels terrified, certain it must show on his face. Steve is peering down at him silently, his mouth swollen and sore as he smiles, pitying but sort of tender, like he knows what Billy is thinking… like maybe _he_ feels the same way.

The seconds tick by in silence before Steve leans in to kiss him, tongue tasting of Billy as his shaking hands gently cradle Billy’s cheeks.

Billy grins faintly and Steve smiles in response, swollen lips curving up even as his eyes begin to droop. He looks satisfied as he lays there, tanned arm draped over Billy’s waist, cheek resting on Billy’s bare chest.

“There we go,” Steve mumbles, already more than half-asleep as he presses a clumsy kiss to Billy’s skin. “G’night, Billy-bear.”

Billy’s heart aches at the pet name but he doesn’t call Steve out on it; doesn’t even jokingly tell him not to call him it again, because it’s embarrassing and dorky, and altogether too lame. The love in his chest swells too bright to breathe past, let alone speak, and Billy settles for simply cuddling Steve tighter instead, pressing a claiming kiss to his dark hair.

“Goodnight,” Billy whispers when the lump of tears building in his throat has finally receded.

Steve hums, eyes shut, smiling faintly.

“No more talking,” he mumbles, cuddling Billy closer. “Go to sleep.”

Billy closes his eyes obediently as he snuggles down under the blankets, deciding sleepily that perhaps he should make a habit of listening to Steve. It hasn’t hurt him so far, after all.

Steve makes him feel loved again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'd love to hear what you thought :)


	5. Heavenward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I'm back with the next chapter and I loved writing this one. It didn't turn out the way I'd planned but somehow that only made me enjoy it more.  
> I hope you'll all enjoy reading it :)

_Let's cause a little trouble._

_Oh, you make me feel so weak._

_I bet you kiss your knuckles_

_Right before they touch my cheek._

“Are you sulking, Billy-bear?” Steve asks, smirking. Billy scoffs, arms folded tightly across his denim jacket as he slouches low in the passenger seat of Steve’s shitty car.

“I am _not_ sulking,” Billy snaps, teeth gritted, face creased in a scowl. Billy is lying. He’s been sulking ever since they left the movie theatre when one of the girls who worked there lay a hand on Steve’s arm and batted her eyelashes at him, all coy and flirty. He’s jealous but not of Steve leaving him or something stupid; he trusts that Steve cares about him enough not to do that. No, what makes Billy _really_ fucking angry is the fact that he can’t imagine living in a world where it would be safe for _him_ to behave like that around Steve in public.

So yeah, Billy is fucking sulking. He thinks he has every right to.

“That girl,” Billy says, after a long pause. He stops speaking abruptly when Steve sighs, knuckles whitening on the steering wheel where he’s manoeuvring his car carefully out of the parking lot.

“Billy,” Steve says, tone heavy, brow creased. “C’mon, why’d you care if some stupid girl went all goo-goo eyes at me?”

With what feels like an impressive display of self-control, Billy doesn’t attempt to tear Steve’s head off for making him _feel_ again. He reaches out grudgingly instead, laying his palm lightly on Steve’s thigh through the jeans he’s wearing.

“I got jealous,” he says simply, his lips pressed together unhappily. “It made me wish…” Billy’s voice trails away and his expression hardens as he squares his jaw. “No, just forget it. It’s stupid.”

“Nothing about you is stupid, Billy,” Steve says softly. He lets the car roll to a stop on the side of the road and Billy grimaces, shoulders hunching up defensively. “Tell me what you were going to say.” It’s a gentle command but Billy complies all the same, wanting to treat Steve the way he deserves; wanting to make him understand the frightening softness expanding inside Billy's ribs.

“I wish it was okay for me to touch you in public like that,” Billy admits, fast and uneasy. “That’s all. See? I _told_ you it was stupid –”

He breaks off when Steve leans in to kiss him, his fingers curving over the back of Billy’s neck beneath his curly hair, his lips warm and soft against Billy’s before Steve withdraws a little, resting their foreheads together gently.

“Nothing about you is stupid, Billy Hargrove,” Steve repeats, thumb smoothing tenderly over Billy’s cheekbone. The bruises are almost gone now and Billy is mollified, sighing softly as he sinks into the comforting feeling of safety that always engulfs him when he’s with Steve. It’s quiet in the car, at least until a soft laugh escapes Steve as he shakes his head slowly. “Every time I think I know you, Billy-bear, you go and surprise me again. I kinda hope you never stop.”

“Well, I’ll do my best,” Billy mutters, smoothing his hair back absently as he straightens up from where he was slouching. “No promises though, pretty boy.”

“That’s enough,” Steve says, quieter now, his tone warm. “Ready for me to drive you home?”

“Sure,” Billy says, sighing as he bites his lip unhappily. “We’re still meeting tomorrow though, right?” He doesn’t mean for the needy words to escape him but he’s almost glad they did when he sees how happy Steve looks, biting his cheek to keep his smile as small as possible.

“Course we are,” Steve says, grinning anyway as the last of the frown on his face is smoothed away. He re-starts the car, guiding it back out onto the road as the radio begins to play once more. The song that plays is a familiar one, popular already despite it not having been released very long ago, and Billy fails to suppress his smile when Steve excitedly identifies the song.

“Billy-bear, they’re playing Wham!” Steve slaps the steering wheel with one hand, hazel eyes lighting up as he joins in with the chorus, singing badly on purpose to make Billy smile. “ _Wake me up before you go-go. Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo. Wake me up before you go-go. I don't want to miss it when you hit that high._ ”

Billy is sniggering in the front seat against his better judgement, rolling his eyes heavenward. He can’t help relaxing though because that – just like everything else – feels so simple when he’s with Steve. It’s so easy to throw his head back and join in with the singing, the summer air rolling in through the open windows as the car flies over the tarmac, leaving Billy’s worries far behind.

“ _Wake me up before you go-go ‘cause I'm not planning on going solo. Wake me up before you go-go. Take me dancing tonight. I wanna hit that high; yeah, yeah!_ ”

Steve claps his hands together in approval when they come to a stop light and Billy laughs, cheeks flushed with colour as he shoves Steve weakly in the shoulder, embarrassed but happy. Steve’s hazel eyes are crinkled endearingly and his lips are just begging to be kissed, and damnit, Billy kind of wants this for as long as Steve will let him have it.

He doesn’t feel so lost when he’s with Steve; doesn’t feel that desperate itch for distractions and stimulation to keep the boredom from swallowing him whole. Billy forgets to feel on edge and jagged because Steve satisfies him; smooths out his broken parts and kisses them better; keeps Billy calm and steady and stable, in a way that no one’s ever been able to achieve before.

They’re already driving down the empty roads cutting through the forest when Steve’s voice rises above the music, his dark hair dishevelled from the wind, his murmured words soft enough that they’re almost inaudible: “Only want you, Billy.”

He speaks so quietly that those precious words could have been a figment of Billy’s imagination. Only the sparkle in Steve’s pretty eyes says it was real.

“You fucking dumbass,” Billy whispers but it’s so painfully fond, his tenderness impossible to hide.

“Yeah, but I’m _your_ dumbass,” Steve counters, his smile so hopeful that Billy wishes it was safe to kiss him now; wishes it was safe to stroke and touch and caress Steve until they forget their own names. Billy settles for squeezing Steve’s thigh instead, his fingers pressing into the denim of his jeans, keeping them anchored together.

“Mine,” Billy agrees, heart beating golden in his chest. “You’re mine.”

Billy leaves his palm resting on Steve’s thigh the whole drive back, all soft and warm with loving him. It’s late afternoon and the sun is already setting behind the trees as Billy guides Steve through Hawkins, directing him towards the miserable residence that's been his home since he left California behind.

The driveway is empty when Steve parks up and Billy relaxes further, feeling the last of the tension bleeding away from him. His dad is clearly not home and, at this time of day, his stepmom will be out of the house too for at least another few hours. Billy hesitates, biting his lip for a moment before he reaches to give Steve’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“You got anywhere to be, pretty boy?” he murmurs, glancing up shyly through his eyelashes. Steve smiles, cheeks heating a little.

“Nope,” he says, lips quirking into a smile. “You gonna give me a tour of your bedroom, Billy-bear?”

“Maybe,” Billy mutters, struggling to suppress his grin and failing dismally. “If you’re good.” Steve smacks him lightly on the ass when Billy starts to climb out of the car and Billy laughs, narrowing his eyes. “That’s not being good, Harrington.”

“Then why are you still smiling?” Steve retorts, poking Billy’s rosy cheek gently with one fingertip.

“Oh, be quiet,” Billy groans, rolling his eyes as he stomps off towards the house with Steve trotting along beside him, looking quite pleased with himself. The door is unlocked when they reach it and, frowning, Billy pushes it open, stepping warily into the hallway. He relaxes when he sees only one pair of shoes waiting beside the doormat – Max’s battered sneakers which have definitely seen better days – and he frowns at how suspiciously quiet the house is.

“Maxine?” Billy calls in a sing-song voice, using her full name because he knows she hates it and something about her fiery stubborn streak makes him desperately want to be an asshole. “Where are you?”

“In here,” Max replies from the living room, her voice dripping with scorn. “I’m watching The A-Team with no pants on so don’t fucking come in.”

“Well, we have a guest,” Billy says sneeringly, kicking his boots off and gesturing vaguely for Steve to do the same. “Put your damn clothes on, shithead.”

“A guest?” He hears faint scrabbling and a muffled curse before Max appears in the doorway, red hair streaming around her shoulders, rolling her eyes contemptuously as she buttons up her shorts. “What girl have you brought –?” She falters, blue eyes widening before she offers a rueful smile, raising a hand in greeting. “Hey, Steve. Not hanging out with Dustin today?”

“Not today,” Steve replies, smiling lightly as he bumps Billy with his shoulder. “Thought I’d hang out with this sourpuss instead; maybe try to teach him some manners.”

“Asshole,” Billy mutters, reproachful. He’s aware that he’s pouting so, with great effort, he rearranges his facial features into something that slightly less resembles a bad-tempered toddler. “You want a drink, Harrington, or are you gonna stay out here bitching?”

“Can’t I do both?” Steve asks, fluttering his eyelashes obviously enough that Max snorts with laughter, although she shoots her stepbrother a wary glance afterwards. Billy sighs, shoulders slumping.

“Come and sit down while I get you a damn soda,” he tells Steve grumpily as he heads into the kitchen. It joins on with the lounge through a wide archway and he can still see the television blaring away to an empty room. There’s a half-eaten pizza slowly beginning to curl up on the coffee table but there’s no drink in sight; not even a glass on the draining board. Billy rolls his eyes harder. “Hey, shithead, didn’t your mom tell you to make sure you have a drink when you’re eating dinner?”

Max grumbles something inaudible as she barges past him, more confident now that Steve’s here too. She fills a cup with water, shoots Billy the most mocking smile he’s ever seen, and downs the contents in one, wiping her mouth with the back of one small hand.

“Happy now?” she asks, slamming the empty cup down on the counter. Billy presses his lips together, nostrils flaring.

“Ecstatic,” he says flatly, side-stepping her as he moves to fetch Steve a can of soda from the fridge. “You can go back to your A-Team bullshit now,” he says, waving a hand vaguely in her direction. “Don’t let us keep you.”

Steve sighs, looking awkward and unhappy.

“Look, if you two wanna fight, I can totally just go home,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck uneasily. Max and Billy exchange a look before they start snorting with laughter. Steve falters, looking thoroughly confused which somehow only makes them laugh harder.

“You think this is _fighting_?” Max demands, her eyes crinkling with amusement. “Oh, how naïve you are.”

Billy grins, face softening a little when Steve catches his gaze helplessly.

“Damnit, Harrington,” Billy murmurs, tone more gentle than he’d intended. “How dull life must have been as an only child.”

Steve cracks open the soda with a pout on his face, dropping down onto the couch that Max has just vacated. After a moment of hesitation, Billy sits down in the armchair across from him, legs folded beneath him, fingers idly twisting the watch encircling his wrist. Max throws herself down onto the cushions beside Steve, fixing Billy with a curious look when she notices how contemplative and quiet he’s become.

“What have you done with my brother, Steve?” she asks jokingly as she reaches for another slice of pizza, nibbling on a piece of pepperoni. Steve just smiles, soft and crooked as his hazel eyes settle warmly on Billy sitting opposite him.

“His bark is worse than his bite, Max,” Steve says, grinning faintly. “But you already know that, right?”

“Maybe,” Max admits, looking almost fond which means a lot coming from her. Billy lowers his gaze, cheeks heating a little as he turns his own unopened soda can over in his hands, more restless than he usually is in Steve’s presence just from feeling trapped in the house. “So, what did you guys do today?”

“We ate burgers and watched The Breakfast Club,” Steve informs her cheerfully, blushing a tiny bit when he catches Billy’s gaze, both of them clearly remembering the make-out session they had in Steve’s car that morning when they had time to kill before the movie began. Steve clears his throat, taking a sip of soda which only manages to look incredibly awkward. “What about you, Max? Been up to much?”

“Oh,” Max says, eyes widening like she hadn’t foreseen being asked this question. “Yeah, I… I hung out with El and the boys this morning… and then I taught Lucas some new moves on my skateboard this afternoon.” She’s blushing, refusing to meet their gazes as she tucks a lock of hair shyly behind her ear. Billy’s face hardens as he sets his can of soda down with just a little too much force.

He doesn’t like Lucas. He’s never made a secret of it and he doesn’t see why he should start now. He hates the idea of Max being surrounded by teenage boys when he knows how shitty they can be – and he’s using himself as a prime example here – but something about Lucas makes him even angrier. He knows the Sinclair kid is interested in Max and Billy hates that; hates the fact that some jumped-up little shit might hurt her because she trusts too easily.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters, fixing Billy with a hard look, reminiscent of those early days in the gym when they’d hated each other, constantly competing and trying to overthrow the other for the positon of ‘King’ at school. Billy bristles in response, hands curling into fists as the glare deepens on his face, matched perfectly by the scowl spreading across Steve’s expression. “Listen here, Hargrove. Lucas isn’t even _half_ the asshole you are so give the kid a break, yeah? Stop being a bigot. It doesn’t suit you.”

Max’s eyes are round as saucers, the slice of pizza she’s been gnawing on slipping through limp fingers to land on the greasy plate below. Steve’s cheeks are flushed with colour but he looks uncertain now, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. Billy’s fingers flex towards the battered packed of cigarettes in his pocket but he won’t allow himself the relief; not when he can see the disappointment buried in Steve’s usually-soft eyes as he gazes at Billy.

It’s silent in the room, save for the sound of The A-Team playing softly in the background. Billy waits for the anger that usually bubbles so close to the surface to consume him but it never happens. He settles back in the armchair after a moment instead, a quiet sigh escaping him as he reaches for his soda, cracking the can open. Steve and Max both flinch at the sound, and Billy sighs again, louder.

“Sorry,” he mutters, a frown growing on his face when he realises that the pressure that’s been building inside him for so long now has simply gone, withered away to nothing. “I’m sorry.” The silence is loaded now, both Steve and Max staring at Billy like he’s grown two heads, which makes Billy feel just peachy. “Look,” he says awkwardly, keen to defend himself. “I just… I want you to be safe, Max. That’s all. If that Sinclair kid –”

“ _Lucas_ ,” Steve interjects, voice faint, frown fading all the time.

“Yeah, Lucas,” Billy says dismissively, waving a hand. “If he tries anything –”

“Ew,” Max says, wrinkling her nose. “I’d break his arm.”

Billy laughs in surprise, relaxing visibly as Steve lets out the breath he’s been holding.

“Good girl,” Billy says, lips curving up into a weak smirk. “I forgot how tough you were… but if you _do_ need someone to break his face –”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Max promises, smiling a little. “But don’t break his face, Billy. I like it. I like _him_.”

“Hmm.” Billy takes another drink, buying himself time to answer as the bubbles fizz in his throat. “Fine,” he says, heart aching when a broad smile spreads across Max’s face. “I suppose I can live with that.”

Billy knows deep down that Max has never needed protecting from Lucas anyway. Lucas has never once put Max at risk – at least, not that Billy knows about. It’s Neil Hargrove who makes Max cry and scream and walk on eggshells. He’s the one who Billy should be reserving his anger for; not Lucas because of the bullshit prejudices Billy’s dad has been force-feeding him since he was a kid.

“I should apologise to Lucas, shouldn’t I?” Billy realises, discomfort dawning on him as his teeth sink worriedly into his bottom lip. Steve’s face is soft now, his hazel eyes gentle in the dim light as Max glances between the pair of them uncertainly.

“Probably,” Steve says honestly. “But I think if you just cut the kid some slack and stop being such an asshole about the whole situation, that’ll be enough for now.” Max nods in agreement, too timid to speak up when she’s so used to Billy’s volatile temper, although she relaxes when Billy sighs in acceptance, slumping back in the armchair.

“Fine,” Billy says, too tired and ashamed of himself to be grumpy. “Deal.”

The phone rings out in the hallway and Billy shoots Max a wordless plea to answer it from where he’s slowly melting into the cushions. Max rolls her eyes as she clambers to her feet, purposefully ruffling Billy’s hair to piss him off as she darts past him. The very moment she’s gone, Steve rises from the couch, expression satisfied, hazel eyes glinting as he crosses the room, settling down on the armchair beside Billy, pressed up close beside him.

It’s risky but Billy can’t find it in himself to care when Steve’s smiling at him like that, all fond and proud. Max is chattering away to El out in the hallway – she'll be out there for hours if Billy lets her, especially since Neil isn't home to control her time spent on the phone – and Billy can’t help himself when he turns his head, drawn to Steve like a magnet, their lips meeting in a lingering kiss. Steve’s fingers curl through Billy’s belt loops to keep him close and Billy sighs contentedly into it, long eyelashes fluttering as his eyes slip shut, pulse calm and steady in his veins.

The kiss is slow and sweet right up until Max appears in the doorway with a spluttered: “I knew it!”

Billy and Steve freeze, feeling like icy water is trickling over their skin as they spring apart, too little and _far_ too late.

“Shut up, Max,” Billy snaps harshly, his tone faintly desperate. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, I do!” she says, firing up at once although she lingers there in the doorway uncertainly, afraid to come closer. Steve’s hands are shaking as he rakes his fingers through his hair in a clear sign of stress. Billy’s heart is sinking in his chest.

“What are you talking about, Max?” Billy asks as gently as he can, hoping that he can distract her; convince her that maybe she just imagined it.

“I knew it,” Max repeats stubbornly, fiddling anxiously with a lock of bright hair. “I saw Steve slap your butt when you got out of the car, Billy. You aren’t subtle.”

“Fuck,” Billy breathes, fingers tangling tightly in his curls as he exchanges a horrified glance with Steve whose expression has quickly become mortified as he mouths ‘sorry’ at Billy helplessly. Max gasps suddenly, face paling as though something’s just occurred to her.

“I’m not going to tell anyone!” she promises, looking dismayed by the very thought. “I’m no snitch and people are assholes. I wouldn’t do that to you guys.”

“You… you wouldn’t?” Billy asks weakly, hardly daring to hope as Steve steps closer, their arms brushing together like he badly needs the comfort. “Not even dad?”

Max scoffs, folding her arms tightly across her chest as she tosses her hair out of her face.

“Of course I wouldn’t,” she says sharply, apparently highly offended by this. “You’re my _brother_ , shithead. _As if_ I’m going to tell dad.” She softens when she sees Billy shakily take Steve’s hand, their trembling fingers tangling together tightly as they cling on to each other. “I’m cool with it,” Max reassures them, her tone gentle now. “I’ve got your back, Billy. I thought you knew that.”

Billy feels like the sun has just risen over the horizon, painting his world in golden hues.

“Thank you, Max,” he says softly, the relief inside threatening to overwhelm him when Steve lets out a giddy laugh, resting his cheek fondly on Billy’s shoulder. Max looks happy now, mouth curved into a smile, usually-pale cheeks flushed a glowing pink.

Billy is so lucky to have Max.

He’s so lucky to have _both_ of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'd love to hear what you thought <3
> 
> Also as a side note, I've drawn some Harringrove fanart and some items featuring the artwork are available on [Redbubble](https://www.redbubble.com/people/merlypops/works/40042093-harringrove-steve-and-billy-being-in-love?asc=u&ref=recent-owner) if you wanted to check it out! It would mean the world to me <3


	6. Small Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone! I'm sorry for the delay - life is a bit hectic at the moment but I'm still stupidly in love with these boys. I really hope you'll all enjoy this :)

_But I've got my mind made up this time_

_‘Cause there's a menace in my bed._

_Can you see his silhouette?_

_Can you see his silhouette?_

_Can you see his silhouette?_

_And I've got my mind made up this time._

_Go on and light a cigarette._

_Set a fire in my head._

_Set a fire in my head tonight._

Time passes, as it is prone to do. Winter comes and goes, with spring flickering past in little more than the blink of an eye. Summer arrives without fanfare, the sun burning bright white in the cloudless sky, the jade green leaves of the trees rustling in the warm breeze. Billy welcomes the change of season; welcomes the opportunities it brings and the way Steve seems to glow brighter in the sunshine. They’ve both found summer jobs now: Billy is a lifeguard at Hawkins Community Pool and Steve works in an ice cream shop at Starcourt Mall where he is made to wear a fancy sailor uniform, a fact which amuses Billy no end. Teasing aside though, it feels good to have new purpose; feels good to leave the bullshit of high school behind and work on securing their futures.

Billy feels content as he drives through the quiet streets of Hawkins, dressed in his red swimming trunks and a white cropped tank top which does very little to cover up his tanned skin. He’s driving to collect Steve from work, his golden curls swaying in a rare summer breeze as the sky overhead slowly slips towards purple.

He’s caught the sun today, his usually tan skin a little too red as he glances down at himself when he comes to a junction. He’ll have to apply some aloe later before he gets too sore; his stepmom Susan will be on his back if he doesn’t, fussing over him the way she likes to do if he lets her. Billy purses his lips thoughtfully, deciding that maybe he’ll ask Steve to do it tonight. Billy is constantly desperate for affection and Steve is always searching for opportunities to get his hands on Billy. They’re the perfect pair.

His hair is still a little damp from the shower he’d grabbed after he finished work and Billy runs his fingers through the curls ruefully as he slows down, trying to make the journey last longer so that he doesn’t have to waste too much time waiting for Steve in the parking lot. His thoughts wander as he drives along the empty roads and he finds himself thinking about how strangely content he feels these days.

With the exception of his father’s continued abuse, Billy sort of likes his life now.

He likes his newfound camaraderie with Max and his flourishing relationship with Steve, and his job at the Hawkins Community Pool. He likes the smell of the chlorine and cracking jokes with his co-worker Heather when she comes on shift. He likes teaching the little kids to swim and making sure everyone stays safe; that no one’s running or dunking anyone, or doing anything they shouldn’t be. He likes the hot summer weather and the cool water, and the laughter and shouts that swell from the happy faces filling the swimming pool.

It reminds Billy of California. It reminds him that there’s still good in the world, even if he used to struggle to find it. He just needs to not give up.

Billy’s still dwelling on that when he finally parks the car outside Starcourt Mall, feeling tired but happy. The shopping centre is already closing and he watches as the parking lot slowly empties around him, his heart softening when he sees Steve sloping across the tarmac towards him in his sailor outfit. Steve bitches about it all the time – says how embarrassing it is that he has to leave Scoops Ahoy dressed like that; that people will see him wearing the uniform without context – and Billy is yet to point out to his boyfriend that it would be a simple matter to bring a change of clothes with him. Somehow, this realisation is yet to occur to Steve and Billy definitely isn’t going to be the one to tell him. All he can think at times like this is that it’s a good thing Steve’s pretty, since he’s certainly not the sharpest tool in the box.

The added bonus is that Billy thinks the sailor outfit is stupidly cute. He has a little red neckerchief and the navy blue of his shirt brings out the flecks of green in Steve's hazel eyes, and the shorts do _wonders_ for his thighs and ass. Then again, Steve could probably wear the ugliest outfit known to man and Billy would still be in awe of his radiance. Billy is possibly a little biased.

“Ahoy, pretty boy,” he drawls when Steve opens the door, collapsing onto the seat dramatically. Billy sniggers suddenly, looking proud of himself when Steve shoots him a confused glower. “That rhymed,” Billy explains, laughing when Steve groans and shoves his sailor hat roughly into the glove compartment before he attempts to fix his hair in the mirror.

Billy watches Steve fondly, unable to keep the grin off his face when Steve catches his gaze in the mirror, cheeks heating a little. His lips part when he sees how glitter-soft Billy’s eyes are and Steve’s movements become clumsy as he reaches fumblingly to pull off the neckerchief, revealing the red-and-white striped t-shirt he’s wearing underneath his blue uniform shirt.

“My little sailor,” Billy says, teasing but undeniably fond. He still can’t tear his eyes away from Steve who is ducking his head bashfully now, apparently shy. Billy strokes his cheek and Steve presses a kiss to his palm, lingering there until Billy is blushing too.

“What’re you thinking about, Billy-bear?” Steve murmurs when he glances up in time to see his boyfriend’s pensive expression. Billy freezes, caught out. There’s no way on earth he’s going to tell Steve the truth – that he was sitting there revelling in just how deeply he loves Steve – so, naturally, Billy lies.

“Finances,” he says, because it’s the first thing he thinks of and because perhaps Steve isn’t the _only_ idiot in their relationship. “Y’know, if we both put up with these jobs for another month or so, we’ll have saved up enough for our first few months of rent.”

“Oh,” Steve says, looking faintly surprised for a moment before his lips quirk into a slightly sarcastic smile. “Yeah, Billy-bear, talk math to me. You know that really gets me going.”

“Oh yeah? You in the mood, sailor boy?” Billy teases, leaning in as seductively as he can manage, secretly planning to tickle his boyfriend’s ribs, but Steve licks Billy’s cheek in reprimand of the nickname and things quickly descend into chaos. Billy accidentally manages to elbow Steve in the stomach during his desperate plight to escape and Steve lets out a wheezy laugh like some kind of dying walrus, which makes Billy snigger before he can stop himself.

“So does this mean you’re _not_ in the mood?” Billy asks lightly, wiggling his eyebrows stupidly to make Steve laugh again. It works and Billy’s heart feels too big for his chest when he sees the fondness saturating his boyfriend’s face as they gaze at each other.

“I was only joking,” Steve says, smiling crookedly as he settles back more comfortably in the seat, ruffling his hair with his fingers. Billy hesitates for a moment before he reaches out to pat Steve’s thigh, his palm lingering on the warm sun-kissed skin.

“I wasn’t,” Billy says quietly, suddenly unable to meet Steve’s gaze as he lowers his eyes shyly. “I… I sort of thought that maybe…” Billy swallows and tries again, all while wondering where the fake confidence he used to exude has gone. “You wanna fuck me when we get back to yours, pretty boy?”

Steve gasps, the sound punched from him like Billy’s elbowed him in the stomach all over again.

“You mean you _want_ me to –” Steve looks like he’s about to swallow his own tongue and Billy quickly speaks over him, cheeks flaming.

“Only if you want to!” Billy reassures him, tone slightly panicked. “If it’s weird then don’t worry. Like, I love fucking you, yeah? I’m completely fine with that but I just wondered –”

“Are you insane?!” Steve gasps, expression gleeful now as he draws Billy in for a clumsy but enthusiastic kiss, his fingers tangling through Billy’s golden curls. “Of course I wanna do that!”

“Oh,” Billy breathes, dizzy with relief that Steve hasn’t laughed at him; that he actually seems to _want_ this. “That’s good.”

“It is,” Steve agrees, grinning broadly. “Glad we’re on the same page, Billy-bear.” His excitement is growing and Billy feels it when the butterflies come to life in his stomach, sending a shiver running through him.

“Think you should drive us home, man,” Steve grins, slapping Billy lightly on the thigh in his eagerness. “Wanna make _love_ to you,” he says in a silly voice, sticking his tongue out when Billy grimaces, heart clenching in his chest.

“That’s the gayest thing you’ve ever said,” Billy points out past the emotions building inside him, managing a weak snigger when Steve rolls his eyes. “Plus, I’m kinda hungry. I sort of wanted to eat –”

“I’ll order us a pizza afterwards if you get us home right this second,” Steve promises sweetly and… yeah, that sounds like something Billy would be interested in.

“Well, you know I’m a sucker for free food,” Billy mutters, shakily turning the key in the ignition and immediately stalling the car. Steve’s smirk widens as he reaches to poke Billy gently in one blushing cheek.

“Looks like you’re just a sucker for me, Hargrove,” he teases, hazel eyes gleaming. “But really, I’m such a hot piece of ass; who could blame you?”

“You’re a _pain_ in the ass actually, Harrington,” Billy corrects but, honestly, he can’t disagree with Steve. He’s so soft for his boyfriend that it’s actually a little bit embarrassing.

Billy calms unconsciously when Steve gently squeezes his knee, leaving his palm resting there warm and comforting as Billy starts the car again, relaxing when the Camaro roars to life beneath them. It’s getting dark outside by now and Billy is glad of that one small mercy as he guides the car out of the parking lot, hoping (probably in vain) that the blood flushing his cheeks is masked by the shadows.

They reach Steve’s house relatively quickly with how empty the roads are and they’re both blushing as they race each other up the garden path, shoving at each other to reach the front door first. Steve gets it unlocked with difficulty, laughing breathlessly when Billy tickles his ribs, hiding his smile in Steve’s broad shoulder.

They make it up the stairs in one piece somehow, with fingers twisted in clothes and lips sliding together hotly as they pause to kiss. It seems to take forever for them to finally reach Steve's bed and Billy feels like he's burning up as he sinks down onto the mattress beneath the comforting weight of Steve's body; maybe because of his sunburn or maybe just because being close to his boyfriend lights a fire inside that will never burn out.

"You sure about this, Billy-bear?" Steve murmurs, reaching for the lube from his nightstand as he presses a soft kiss to Billy's shoulder. Billy watches him uncertainly, cropped tank top rucked up around his abdomen, teeth worrying nervously at his bottom lip. He reaches for Steve with shaking hands, smoothing the dark hair back so that he can see his boyfriend's face properly.

Steve smiles reassuringly, pressing a soft kiss to Billy's palm, soothing his worries away.

"I'm sure," Billy tells him, soft but determined as he kicks his shorts off, discarding them on the floor. Steve shyly follows suit and Billy softens, blue eyes gentler than they've ever been as he lays there on Steve's bedspread. "I really mean it, pretty boy."

Billy stretches up to kiss him and Steve returns it at once, his lips soft against Billy's as he slicks his fingers up carefully with the K-Y Jelly.

"Okay," Steve whispers, hand shaking a little as he reaches down tentatively between Billy's thighs. "Okay, baby."

Steve's never called him that before and Billy's heart feels like it's melting in his chest as the last of his anxiety leaves him. A soft moan escapes him when he feels the first push of Steve's finger against his hole and his head falls back onto the pillow when it presses inside, his curls fanning out as Steve ducks his head to kiss his throat.

Billy's moans grow louder when Steve carefully introduces a second finger and he doesn't even remember to feel embarrassed by the desperate noises pouring out of him because his whole body is thrumming with pleasure. No one else has ever been able to make him feel this good before. Only Steve.

“You sound so hot,” Steve breathes, the words humid against Billy’s neck as his lips trail over the sensitive skin. They’re both achingly hard now and Steve groans as he carefully introduces a third finger, biting his lip when Billy arches his back at the stretch, whimpering brokenly as his cock leaks onto the crumpled material of his tank top. His fingers are twisted in Steve’s hair, his eyes fluttering shut as a moan tears out of him when Steve’s fingertips press against his prostate.

“I… I think I’m ready,” Billy whispers when Steve’s fingers still inside him, his lips pressing gently against Billy’s shoulder. There’s no burn now and Billy relaxes a little when he sees the uncertainty on his boyfriend’s face as he carefully eases his fingers out, stretching up to kiss Steve on the mouth. “C’mon, pretty boy,” Billy pleads, shivering when Steve timidly takes hold of his cock, rolling a condom on before he slicks himself up, positioning the tip lightly against Billy’s hole. “I really want this.”

“Yeah?” Steve checks, his tone worried but warm. His dark hair is falling forwards, growing limp with the heat saturating the air between them. Billy strokes it back carefully, feeling empty without Steve’s fingers inside him.

“Yeah,” Billy promises, cheeks flushed, heart racing. “Yeah, c’mon, Steve, please.”

“Yeah,” Steve echoes, almost like he’s trying to bolster his own courage. “Yeah, okay.” He hesitates just before pushing in, his fingers still wrapped loosely around his cock, his hazel eyes worried as he holds Billy’s gaze anxiously. “You’ll tell me if it hurts?”

“I’ll tell you if I need to stop, Steve,” Billy reassures him, his palm warm against Steve’s cheek. He isn’t stupid – he knows it’s probably going to hurt but that doesn’t matter to him; not when he knows Steve will do everything he can to make this good for him. Billy is scared but he’s also happy, and maybe that’s enough.

“C’mon, damnit!” Billy teases, smiling crookedly. “The sooner we’re done, the sooner I can eat my pizza, Harrington.”

Steve laughs, the sound soft and warm with surprise, and he’s still smiling fondly when he finally begins to press his cock into Billy’s hole. Billy bites his lip, fighting to keep from tensing up as he inhales shakily, brow creased. Steve does his best to kiss the frown away, his hand falling to stroke the underside of Billy’s cock as he presses in a little deeper, moving slowly to keep from hurting his boyfriend.

It's hot and dark in Steve's bedroom, and Billy feels overwhelmed as he gasps weakly under the comforting weight of his boyfriend's body. Billy's never experienced anything like this before and his head is spinning with it; with the pressure and the aching stretch; the inexorable slide of Steve’s cock pressing so deep into him that all of Billy’s miserable emptiness is gone, replaced only with fire and warmth.

“Billy?” Steve gasps out, pupils blown dark in his pretty eyes, muscles clenched where he’s fighting to keep from moving before his boyfriend is ready. “Billy, baby, are you –”

“Yeah,” Billy manages, head dropping back against the pillows as a whine clambers from his throat. Steve’s still doing his best to keep still and, honestly, Billy isn’t above begging. “ _Please_ move, Steve, please.”

Steve moans at how wrecked Billy’s voice sounds but he does as he’s told, forehead falling down to rest against his boyfriend’s as he tentatively begins to roll his hips. Steve’s cock is a lot bigger than it looked and Billy feels like he can’t breathe with how good this is as the burn of pleasure spreads through him. He feels like he’s being split apart but he doesn’t care that it hurts; doesn’t give a damn because this is the closest he’s ever felt to Steve and he knows he’ll be able to feel it for days afterwards.

Secretly, Billy thinks he might want to feel this forever.

“ _Fuck_ , baby,” Steve groans, stroking Billy's curls away from his sweaty forehead with a shaky hand as he fucks in deeper, tearing desperate moans from both of them. “Can’t believe you’re giving me this.”

“Only you,” Billy promises, breathless with how tightly the pleasure is coiling in his stomach. The heat is already settling in his shaking thighs and he knows the end is near; knows he won't last even another _minute_ when he feels the wonderful sensation of Steve's shaking hand wrapping around his leaking cock.

“Fuck, Steve, feels so good,” Billy moans, blue eyes damp with tears as he wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s broad shoulders, holding him close. Steve’s eyes are sparkling as he leans down to kiss him, moaning against Billy’s mouth as his movements become erratic, his hips jerking as he fucks in deep, working to bring them both the release they so desperately need.

Billy can’t speak anymore. He has no words to describe the way his entire being is lighting up from the inside out with every thrust of Steve’s cock; with every gentle brush of his lips against Billy’s and Steve’s trembling fingers stroking reverently through his boyfriend’s hair. Billy gazes up at Steve and sees the universe reflected back at him, and it draws a gasp from him as the heat in his stomach tightens, building up, rising, burning hotter and brighter until –

Billy comes apart harder than he ever has before, breaking against Steve like waves on the beach, like independence day fireworks shattering the velvety darkness of the night sky. It’s not even just the pleasure burning through him that finishes Billy off in the end; it’s the undeniable **love** he can feel when he looks at Steve that burns his sadness away like sunlight.

Their eyes meet and, for just a moment, the love is reflected back at Billy in Steve’s beautiful eyes. Steve moans, breathless and stunned as he curls in on himself, face tucked away into Billy’s neck as his orgasm rushes through him, the muscles in his back tense under the soothing weight of Billy’s hands. Steve’s hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat, his lips slack with panting breaths when he finally raises his head, offering a lopsided smile which fades a little when he sees how vulnerable Billy looks.

Steve pulls out cautiously, stroking Billy’s thigh comfortingly before he disposes of the condom, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. Billy’s eyes are glassy with tears and he’s shaking a little but he calms when Steve wraps his arms around his boyfriend, cuddling him closer. Billy feels small in Steve’s arms and it’s an alien feeling; not unwelcome exactly but terrifying all the same. He dries the tears from his eyes as subtly as possible, ashamed when Steve presses a kiss to his cheek, his expression altogether too knowing.

“Billy-bear?” Steve murmurs, his body a warm familiar press against Billy’s side. Steve smiles reassuringly when his boyfriend shyly meets his gaze, thumbing a tear away gently before he drops a kiss onto Billy’s nose, relieved when it makes him smile. “You okay down there?”

“Yeah,” Billy scoffs, voice weak as he rolls his eyes although he doesn’t feel ready to stop hugging Steve just yet. “I… I think so.”

Billy feels a pang of guilt suddenly because, if this is how he feels now after allowing himself to be this vulnerable for the first time, how must Steve have felt that day when they’d fucked for the first time in the Camaro and Billy had been too frightened to talk to him for weeks after? Fuck, Billy has _so_ many things he needs to apologise for.

The pain must ripple across his tanned face because Steve looks anxious now, his hands smoothing down Billy’s ribs comfortingly like he’s afraid he’s hurt him. Billy reaches to cradle Steve’s cheeks, calming them both with their proximity and the gentle kiss Billy presses to Steve’s cheek.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Billy whispers, embarrassed by the words but aware that they’re important, especially when he sees the helpless worry building in Steve’s soft hazel eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t do the same for you before, Steve. I really am.”

Billy’s eyes fall shut as the shame sears through him and he sighs, so scared of losing Steve but also resigned to it; convinced he’ll fuck this up and lose the guy he’s fallen so painfully in love with. Billy’s bursting with affection for Steve and he wants to keep him by his side for the rest of his life but, at times like these when Billy remembers how much of a fucking bastard he’s been, it still feels like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It still feels like Steve’s going to realise just how good he is; how he’s worth so much more than a waster like Billy with a dad who hates him. Maybe it doesn’t matter that Steve makes Billy want to be a better person; that Steve makes Billy remember how to love himself again because… well, what if Billy doesn’t make Steve feel that way?

What if Steve is just waiting for the right time to leave?

“Hey,” Steve chides gently, his expression mildly alarmed as he brushes away the boiling tears rolling down Billy’s cheeks. Billy grits his teeth, squeezing his blue eyes tightly shut as his heart aches in his chest. “Billy, you don’t need to apologise for that. I know how bad you feel about it – it’s written all over that handsome face, yeah? So let’s just focus on right now; on how good we are for each other… on how you’re gonna be stuck with me for as long as you want me.”

Billy purposefully doesn’t say ‘ _always_ ’ but it’s written plain as day on his face and Steve smiles a little, relaxing visibly as he smooths down the material of Billy’s cropped tank top fondly.

“We’re gonna have the best time, Billy-bear,” Steve reassures him softly, playing with a lock of his boyfriend’s hair as Billy does his best to dry his eyes. “Two more months and we’ll be out of here. We’re gonna be so fucking happy, baby.”

“Oh yeah?” Billy murmurs, his mouth curving up into a hesitant smile which Steve promptly presses a kiss to. “How’d you know?”

“'Cause it’s us,” Steve grins, brightening when he feels Billy relaxing where they’re still laying tangled together. “We’re gonna have our own place, Billy-bear!” Steve is clearly excited, hazel eyes sparkling as his smile turns mischievous. “That means we can eat crap for every meal and have sex wherever we want, and we can get like _twenty seven_ dogs and it’ll all be perfect.”

Steve is joking, right up until he isn’t anymore. His eyes soften, his smile turning gentler as he kisses the last of the vulnerability from Billy’s face, his expression saturated with fondness.

“Means I’m gonna get to hold you like this every night for the rest of my life, Billy-bear.”

“Oh yeah?” Billy repeats, choked up now as he cuddles Steve tighter, his heart racing in his chest. “Want that, do you?”

“You’re amazing, Billy,” Steve whispers, foreheads touching as he cradles Billy’s cheeks safely between his palms. “I’d have to be crazy not to want you.”

Those three life-changing words are rising to the surface but neither of them voice them because… well, the thing is, they sort of don’t seem necessary. They both know how they feel about each other – or they _should_ do, although perhaps not in their moments of doubt – and the idea of laying everything out on the table like that feels terrifying to Billy, who has never felt the need to tell anyone he loves them since his mum left him behind.

Billy’s been scared of appearing weak for a long time and, no matter how hard he tries, he’ll always be frightened of vulnerability. What scares him even more though is the fact that he still so desperately wants to tell Steve the truth. He wants to say those words and feel his heart swell up when his boyfriend undoubtedly returns them but Billy’s fear has cut him deep, and those wounds will take time to heal, to scar, to fade away.

Billy presses his lips together tightly, the fear and love warring with each other in his wide eyes as Steve lets out a quiet laugh, the sound sad and fond, like he understands.

“You already know how I feel,” Steve whispers, the words hesitant but determined. Billy’s heart is melting in his chest when he leans over to kiss Steve, his thumb smoothing over his boyfriend’s cheekbone as Steve’s hand settles comforting and warm on his hip.

“Yes, I do,” Billy agrees, growing shyer by the second as he swallows past the lump rising in his throat. “And… you know how I feel too?”

“Course I do, Hargrove,” Steve replies with a grin that sends Billy’s heart pounding too fast in his chest. “You’re not subtle.”

Billy lets out a surprised laugh, relieved and scared, and so in love that he feels dizzy with it.

“Good,” Billy says, smile growing teasing when he runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, leaving it sticking up messily. “Now how about that pizza, Harrington?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed this and I'd love to hear what you thought <3


	7. Like A Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm so sorry for the delay but I'm back with the penultimate chapter and I really hope you'll enjoy this one!  
> Heads up - Neil Hargrove makes an appearance and he is Not Fun to write, but I hope you'll still like the chapter :)

_Don't forget me, don't forget me._

_I wouldn't leave you if you'd let me._

_When you met me, when you met me,_

_You told me you were gonna get me._

_Don't forget me, don't forget me._

_I wouldn't leave you if you'd -_

The whole drive to his house, Billy feels happy. He’s sitting in the passenger seat of Steve’s car, curls tousled by the breeze, shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal his collarbones. Steve’s palm is resting on his thigh as they drive through the quiet streets of Hawkins and Billy laces their fingers together warmly, still stunned beyond disbelief that everything seems to be falling into place around him.

They’ve found an apartment they’re seriously considering purchasing now and it still feels unreal to Billy. It’s only in the next town over - still close enough to pick Max up from school if she needs a lift - and Billy is glad of that. He’s relieved they won’t need to leave Roane County with its sprawling forests and rolling hills, and he’s even more relieved that he finally feels so comfortable living in Indiana.

All of the resentment and hatred he’d once harboured for Hawkins is gone now and, although he’ll always miss California a little, Billy knows Indiana can be his home too. Max and Steve have gifted him with this realisation, and Billy isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to repay them.

“One more pay check and we’ll be out of here,” Steve says gleefully from beside his boyfriend, knuckles whitening on the wheel, excited but nervous. “Still doesn’t feel real, does it?”

“No,” Billy admits, voice soft as he squeezes Steve’s hand, cheeks flushed with blood. “Feels like a dream, Harrington.”

“Well, as long as it’s not a nightmare,” Steve teases lightly as he brakes at a stop sign, hazel eyes sparkling in the evening light. Billy scoffs, laughing softly.

“It’d never be a nightmare with you, pretty boy,” Billy says, instantly embarrassed by how tender he sounds. He reaches over to mess Steve’s hair up instead - just to balance things out, obviously - and feels quite proud of himself when Steve scowls at him, fixing it distractedly with one hand as they approach Billy’s house.

It looks almost pleasant as the sun sets behind the sloped roof; looks _almost_ like somewhere Billy could be sad to leave. He’s contemplative as he approaches the house, a faint smile playing on his lips as he struggles to unlock the door with Steve’s arms wrapped warmly around his waist.

The driveway is empty again and Billy is glad of that as he lets them into the hallway, frowning faintly when he sees a pair of unfamiliar peeling sneakers sitting innocuously beside Max’s next to the doormat. Steve bites his lip when he sees Billy’s frown deepening at the sound of laughter coming from the living room.

“Max?” Billy calls, shrugging out of his denim jacket and hanging it over the banister as he smooths his white shirt. “Max, who’s here with you?”

He hears a muffed: “ _Shit_ ” emanating from the living room that sounds distinctly like Lucas and grits his teeth, exchanging an irritated look with Steve who has just seen fit to take hold of Billy’s wrist, keeping him from striding into the room.

“Lucas is a good guy,” Steve reminds him in a whisper, hazel eyes serious but gentle, grip loosening on Billy’s wrist. “I thought you said you were gonna cut him some slack?”

“I know what I said,” Billy mutters, squaring his shoulders as he pulls his arm out of Steve’s gentle hold. He strides down the hallway, aware that his boyfriend is hurrying to keep up with him because Steve bumps into him when Billy comes to a sharp stop in the doorway. Max and Lucas are sitting on separate ends of the couch, and Billy shoots the very deliberate gap between the pair with a very faint sneer.

“Max,” he says, their blue eyes locked as she bites her lip nervously. “Sinclair.” Lucas swallows audibly and Billy bristles a little at the tense silence. He glances back over his shoulder to meet Steve’s gaze, wilting a little as the fight in him drains away. “Do either of you two want a soda?” he asks awkwardly, cheeks heating when the kids stare at him in shock.

Lucas recovers first, clearly apprehensive as he clears his throat, turning his baseball cap over in his hands.

“I’d like one, please,” Lucas says, glancing at Max for courage before he straightens up a little, his relief evident when Billy starts towards the fridge. Steve relaxes from his place in the doorway, face softening as he crosses the room and drops down into the armchair.

“Can Max and I have a soda too, please?” Steve adds hopefully, making Billy roll his eyes as he grabs the drinks. “We’re parched over here.”

“Parched,” Billy repeats sourly, offering a weak snort of amusement. “Sure you are, Harrington.”

Max watches her brother with wide eyes as Billy returns with their sodas, exchanging a shocked glance with Lucas that Billy catches a glimpse of, his lips turning down at the corners. Steve tugs Billy down onto the armchair with him by the belt loops and, although Lucas’s eyebrows rise and Billy’s cheeks burn hotter, no one comments.

The silence grows, becoming increasingly strained until even easy-going Steve Harrington is bothered by the tension. His leg is jiggling with restless energy and they all flinch when he pops open the can of soda, the sudden hiss of bubbles startling them as they sit in silence. Billy rolls his eyes, settling his hand firmly on Steve’s knee to keep it still as he leans forward to break the silence.

Surprisingly, Lucas gets there first.

“So…” he says slowly, glancing between Billy and Steve with faintly narrowed eyes as Max watches her friend uneasily. “Are you two dating or something?”

Billy cringes, resisting the urge to snap: “Or something” back in his nastiest tone because… well, there’s kind of no point, is there? The Sinclair kid means a lot to Max and Billy isn’t ashamed of his relationship with Steve, no matter how harshly his father raised him to the contrary.

Max has gone worryingly pale now and Steve is tense under Billy’s palm. The silence breaks around them slowly, like ice melting.

“Yeah, we are,” Billy replies at last, his voice softer than he might have expected, his hand trembling a little until Steve’s moves shakily to entwine their fingers. “That’s not gonna be a problem, is it, Sinclair?”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Lucas says, not fazed in the slightest, although he certainly appears relieved by the tension leaking out of the room like air from a popped balloon. “Just between us, I’m pretty sure my friend Will likes guys. I don’t see why it bothers people so much.”

“Huh,” Steve says at length, which is not exactly the most intelligent answer but at least indicates that he’s considering what Lucas had to say. Billy smiles faintly despite himself, relaxing when he sees the utter relief saturating Max’s face as she slumps back on the couch, leaning subtly against her friend’s side.

“I think I misjudged you, Sinclair,” Billy says, forcing himself to keep from curling inwards in embarrassment. Lucas and Max are staring at him with wide eyes again, and Steve is rubbing Billy’s knuckles soothingly with the pad of his thumb to keep him calm. “I’m… I’m kind of glad you’re here, kid.”

“ _Glad_?” Lucas repeats blankly, frowning as his lips part in confusion. “But you hate me. That’s kind of a given.”

“I don’t,” Billy disagrees, his tone mild. “Not anymore.” He reaches into his pocket for a cigarette, needing to keep his hands occupied so that he has something else to focus on aside from the shame he can feel welling inside him. “Sinclair – no, _Lucas_ – I… I want to take this opportunity to apologise. I know I’ve been a massive asshole and… well, I’m sorry, okay? You didn’t deserve to be treated that way and I’m glad you stood up to me… but I wish you’d never had to in the first place. That wasn’t cool of me at all.”

“Oh,” Lucas breathes, eyes wide as he exchanges a stunned look with Max. “Uh… that’s okay, man. Think nothing of it.”

Steve squeezes Billy’s hand reassuringly and Max relaxes, and Billy feels like maybe things are going to be okay.

“So we’re cool now, kid?” he checks, blue eyes narrowing faintly as he takes a drag on the cigarette. Lucas offers him a slightly wary smile which brightens considerably when Max bumps their knees together.

“Yeah, we’re cool,” Lucas says. “Thanks, Billy.”

The atmosphere feels less strained after that and Billy feels like he can finally relax as Steve swoops in to divert the conversation, apparently aware that his boyfriend needs time to simply process what’s just happened. The kids are chatting about their day - describing in great detail their exciting skateboarding antics and the way Max beat Lucas at almost every game they played in the arcade - and Billy can’t quite keep himself from smiling as he sips his soda, watching them chatting together with bright eyes.

Even when it comes to light that Max and Lucas have science homework, their moods don’t sour. Steve insists he’ll help them fill in their worksheets - which is sweet of him, if a little misguided - and Billy feels calmer than he has done in a long time as he watches them concentrating.

He can’t remember a time he felt _less_ antsy being trapped in this house than the way he does now, just sitting with the people he cares about, truly relaxed for the first time in what feels like forever. Max’s mom is out of town visiting her parents for the night and Neil will likely be out for a long while yet, especially if he stops for a drink on the way home from work. Billy feels _safe_ and it’s such a pleasant feeling.

“- pretty sure they’re only in plant cells, Steve,” Max is saying, blue eyes crinkled up fondly as she exchanges a warm look with Billy. Steve is chewing on the end of Lucas’s pencil much to his disgust and Billy can’t stop himself from laughing as he watches them, feeling so damn lucky to have such them in his life.

“Wait, so there _aren’t_ chloroplasts in animal cells?” Steve asks, utterly perplexed. Lucas snorts with laughter.

“Dude, do you photosynthesise?! Of course there aren’t!”

“Whatever,” Steve huffs, grumbling as he settles back beside Billy with a pout. “Fill in your own damn worksheets then.” His hazel eyes are sparkling though and Lucas seems to realise he’s forgiven as the grin curves across his lips. Max is smiling as she fills out the rest of her homework, head down as she focuses on the task at hand. She’s way smarter than Billy will ever be and damn, he’s so proud of her. He just buried it before but he’s glad he’s accepted it now, just like he’s glad that Lucas has forgiven him because… well, maybe this can be an opportunity for Billy. Maybe this is how he can finally become more involved in Max’s life.

Billy is still dwelling on this when Lucas sees the time and sighs heavily. Apparently he’s going to miss curfew if he stays much longer and Billy sees the chagrin on the kids’ faces when they realise their time together has run out. Their hands are resting close together on the couch, fingertips almost touching, and Billy isn’t stupid, no matter what his father thinks; he knows what those two would be doing if he and Steve hadn’t crashed the place.

Still a little grudging, Billy forces a weak smile and jerks his thumb towards the darkening sky outside.

“Lucas needs to get home, Max,” he says, lips curving tiredly when his sister looks at him in surprise. “Why don’t you see Lucas out? Be a good host.”

Max’s eyes light up at the invitation and she grabs Lucas’s hand, towing him out into the empty hallway almost too fast for him to grab his baseball cap. Billy and Steve remain sitting together in the silence that follows, both of them quietly contemplative until Billy rests his head on Steve’s shoulder with a tired sigh. Steve kisses Billy’s curls in response, lingering there as his arms wrap gently around his boyfriend.

“That was good of you, baby,” Steve murmurs, palm coming to rest warm on Billy’s thigh. “Max is lucky to have a brother like you.”

“No, she isn’t,” Billy says quietly, offering a weak shrug. “Not yet. But I’m gonna change that.”

“I can tell,” Steve says lightly, hazel eyes soft as he holds his boyfriend’s gaze, drawing him in for a brief kiss. “You already are.”

Billy gazes at Steve as the dying sunset paints the room a reddish-gold, his heart full in his chest as he nestles there in the warmth of Steve’s arms. Fuck, this is all Billy needs.

The door slamming shut alerts Billy to the fact that something is wrong and his heart clenches in his chest when he hears the sudden patter of Max’s footsteps, followed by a heavier tread that sets Billy’s pulse racing in his veins.

“It’s your dad,” Max hisses in warning as Billy and Steve spring apart. Her blue eyes are wide and anxious, her usually-pale skin blotchy with blood. “He saw Lucas, Billy!”

Billy gently takes Max’s arm, drawing her behind his body where he’s just leapt up from the armchair. Steve rises uncertainly too, his hazel eyes flickering apprehensively towards the doorway where Neil Hargrove has just appeared with a face like thunder.

“What the fuck was the Sinclair kid doing in my house?!” Neil demands, expression twisted with disgust, narrowed eyes venomous. Max shrinks back fearfully, shaking hands fisting in Billy’s white shirt as Billy squares his shoulders, trying to keep from flinching.

“Lucas is Max’s friend, dad,” he says, cringing a little when he hears the tremor in his voice. “They weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“They were just doing their homework, sir,” Steve offers, squaring his jaw when Neil whirls to face him, eyes narrowing.

“Who the hell are you?” Neil demands, his tone dripping enough acid that Steve bristles, clearly getting pissed off.

“I’m Steve Harrington, sir,” he says through gritted teeth, refusing to be anything less than polite. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you before.”

“You cocky son of a bitch,” Neil growls, eyes narrowing as he looks between Billy and Steve pointedly. “You’re not welcome in my house, Harrington. Get the fuck out.”

Neil takes a deliberate step towards him and Billy’s blood runs cold in his chest.

“Leave him alone, dad,” he snaps, voice shaking. “Leave Steve alone; leave Lucas alone; leave Max alone. You’re not going to fuck anyone else’s life up. I won’t let you.”

“Oh yeah?” Neil asks in disbelief, the horrible gleam in his eyes making Billy want to wither away to dust. “What’s a pussy like you going to do about it? You think I’m scared of you, faggot? You’re a waste of space. You’re _nothing_.”

“Yeah?” Billy whispers, breathing raggedly in the painfully silent room as Steve and Max stand on either side of him. “Well, I learnt it from the best, dad.” The hatred is welling in Billy’s chest, burning hot and bright, and impossible to fight. There’s no hiding anymore. Billy’s had enough and that’s why he speaks next, when perhaps it would have been wiser to stay silent. “How’s it feel having a faggot for a son, dad?”

Maybe Billy should have expected the punch but his knees still buckle when Neil’s fist collides with his jaw and he crumples with a pained groan. Max cried out, blue eyes bright with tears as Neil stares down at Billy contemptuously where his son remains slumped on the floor, eyes glassy, body heavy with acceptance and shame.

He wishes Steve wasn’t here to see him in such a pathetic state, too weak and useless to defend himself or take Max somewhere safe. Billy is just lying there, bruised jaw throbbing, heart clenching in his chest as the self-loathing rears its ugly head. Maybe it never went away at all. It always seems to flutter just beneath the surface when Neil Hargrove is around.

The light overhead wavers as a shadow falls over him and Billy flinches, waiting for a kick or a punch from his father but it never comes. He risks opening his eyes after a moment, his frightened gaze settling on Steve where his boyfriend has stepped in front of him, shoving a shocked Neil back with his hands flat on the older man’s chest.

“Get the fuck away from him,” Steve hisses, eyes narrowing. Neil tenses up angrily and Steve makes himself as tall as he can, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Just back off. Don’t do something you’re gonna regret.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, you little bastard,” Neil spits, lips twisted in a snarl. “They’re my fucking kids. I’ll do what I want with them.”

“I’m not leaving them here with you when you’re acting like this,” Steve murmurs, gritting his teeth hard enough that it almost hurts. “You lay another finger on either of them and you’ll regret it.”

“Don’t come in my house and threaten me, boy,” Neil snarls, the fury in his eyes unmistakable. “I swear you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

Billy is struggling to get his knees under him now, his hands shaking badly as Max reaches for him, hauling him back to his feet. Steve keeps them behind him as best he can, hazel eyes harder and colder than they’ve ever been when he sees the contemptuous way Neil is watching his son.

“I should call the police on you,” Steve says flatly. “You’re an abusive asshole. One look at what you’ve done to Billy and they’ll have you locked away in seconds.”

“Get the fuck outta my way,” Neil spits, shouldering Steve roughly aside as his fingers curl tightly in Billy’s collar, wrenching him out of Max’s grip. It’s so sudden that all Steve can do is stare in horror when he sees the panic flaring to life in Billy’s eyes as the absolute hatred saturates Neil’s face. “The cops’ll take ages to get here. This little fag will be dead by then.”

Steve isn’t thinking when he throws himself at Neil, wrapping an arm around the older man’s throat as he punches him in the cheek. It’s clumsy and pain explodes across Steve’s knuckles but he doesn’t let go; won’t even consider it when Billy and Max are in such danger.

Neil throws him off, sending a punch at Steve which is much more effective. Steve’s stomach lurches sickeningly when he feels the extraordinarily unpleasant sensation of his nose breaking against Neil’s knuckles and he still feels stunned when the pain flares to life a moment later, red-hot and consuming.

Steve slumps down heavily onto his back, panting as he stares up blearily at the ceiling, trying to work out where it all went wrong. Billy’s eyes are bright with tears, his arm wrapped around a tearful Max as he watches Neil with disgust and pity clear on his face.

“We’re leaving, dad,” Billy says tiredly, speaking without heat. “Let us go.” He squeezes Max a little closer, his jaw clenching tighter as a tear rolls down his cheek. “You never wanted us to begin with.”

Billy reaches out a hand to help Steve up and their fingers remain entwined when Steve is standing, still a little dizzy but growing rapidly more aware at the thunderous expression on Neil’s flushed face. Neil doesn’t seem to understand how to react when there’s no outlet for his anger and his threats quickly become bluster, pathetic and futile.

“If you leave then I’ll… I’ll smash the Camaro up!” Neil threatens wildly, with just a hint of desperation. Billy levels him with a long look, his eyes utterly uncaring.

“See if I give a fuck,” he says, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand tighter. “C’mon, Max, Steve. Let’s get out of here.”

Max is crying quietly where she’s tucked against her brother’s side but she calms a little when Steve scoops her skateboard up from the hallway, passing it to her wordlessly as Billy shuts the door firmly behind them.

The night air is cold when it rushes down to greet them and Billy groans, head spinning as the ache in his jaw becomes more insistent. Steve is holding a crumpled tissue to his nose, looking severely pained but like he’s doing his best to hide it. He proves Billy’s point when he catches his boyfriend’s gaze, forcing a humourless smile as he spins his car keys around his finger.

“Which of you wants to ride shotgun?” he asks and Max makes a sound - half-laugh, half-sob - that sends Billy’s heart aching in his chest.

“Obviously me,” Billy says in as light a tone as he can manage. “Big brother’s prerogative, right?”

“Right,” Max breathes, offering a tearful smile at Billy as Steve opens the door for her, making sure she’s comfy. Billy slides into his own seat, content in the knowledge that his sister is being well taken care of. He closes his eyes, tense and aching, and a lot more scared than he's letting on. Steve climbs in soon after and the sound of the door slamming shut is followed by a heavy silence.

“My folks are home,” Steve says as his hands settle on the wheel, knuckles whitening. “We’re have to tell them the truth.” He bites his lip, grimacing at the taste of the blood as he glances at Max in the rearview mirror. “You said your mom was out of town tonight but she’s back tomorrow, yeah?” he checks, his frown lessening when Max nods. “Okay, well, that works for us. At least you’ll probably only need to have my mom fussing over you for tonight, Max.”

Steve’s hand settles gently on Billy’s thigh as he speaks, his fingertips stroking over the denim soothingly until he can feel his boyfriend relaxing under the touch. Steve withdraws his hand after a moment, starting the engine and guiding the car swiftly out onto the tree-lined road. The radio comes to life and Billy lets his mind wander as he shakily lights a cigarette, finding himself hoping against hope that this will be the final push Max’s mom needs to leave Neil.

Maybe knowing that she has the support of other people on her side will be enough. Maybe Max will finally have the childhood she deserves.

Billy voices these thoughts quietly as Steve drives through the dark winding roads, heartened when Max leans forward to squeeze his shoulder, comforting and grounding. She seems a lot calmer now and Billy relaxes when he hears her humming quietly along to the radio because that’s even more proof that she’s feeling safer. The song is a familiar one and Billy closes his eyes once more as he rests his bruised face against the cold glass of the window, letting the words wash over him.

“ _And I can't fight this feeling anymore. I've forgotten what I started fighting for. It's time to bring this ship into the shore and throw away the oars, forever._ ”

Billy is tired and hurting but he has the two people he cares about most with him right now, safe and alive, and that’s what he chooses to focus on. Nothing else matters.

He’s settled into a haze of exhaustion and disbelief by the time they make it back to Steve’s place, his head spinning like he can’t believe he’s finally free of Neil’s iron grasp. It feels unreal and his knees shake beneath him as Max follows him warily up the path, her arms wrapped protectively around her skateboard. Steve unlocks the door, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip anxiously as he steps inside, grimacing when he’s immediately greeted by his parents’ concerned cries.

Mr and Mrs Harrington’s clucking only worsens when they notice the two step-siblings standing meekly behind Steve, tear-stained and bloodied in Billy’s case. They are welcomed inside at once and Billy wants to cry as he is helped into a chair at the kitchen table. Mr Harrington makes them tea and Mrs Harrington fusses over Max, and Steve cleans the blood from his face with a wry smile as he leans against the sink, apparently just relieved that he’s got Billy and Max somewhere they’ll be safe.

“Who did this to you?” Mr Harrington asks unhappily when he goes to check on Steve, tilting his son’s head back to get a look at the bruising. The silence is strained before Max’s shoulders slump as she reaches to hold Billy’s hand.

“Our dad,” she says, her voice small and tired. “Steve was very brave, sir.” She sighs, squeezing her brother’s hand gently. “So was Billy.”

“Oh dear,” Mrs Harrington murmurs, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip as she turns to face her husband. “Do you suppose we should call the police, dear?”

“Can we hold off ‘til tomorrow?” Steve interjects before his father can answer. “Max’s mom will be home then. Maybe we should discuss things properly with her first.”

“Well… alright,” Mr Harrington says hesitantly, straightening Steve’s collar with a fondly worried look on his face. “I suppose we should make some beds up for our guests then, dear. It’s far too late for them to stay elsewhere.”

“Of course,” Mrs Harrington replies, brightening now that she has something useful to do. “We’ll make you up a bed on the couch, Maxine. Let’s get you sorted first.”

“Actually, it’s Max,” Billy corrects softly, his tone apologetic although he relaxes when he sees the surprised half-smile twitching Max’s lips. “Thank you for everything, Mr and Mrs Harrington. I’m not sure what we would’ve done without you tonight.”

“Think nothing of it, Billy,” Mrs Harrington says kindly. “Our Steve talks about you all the time. It’s lovely to get to meet you properly.”

She bustles off then, clearly determined to get Max somewhere horizontal before she falls asleep at the kitchen table. Max’s long hair is falling wild around her shoulders and she fiddles with a lock of it anxiously, her eyes flitting around the room as Steve and his father talk quietly.

“You got any hair bands with you?” Billy asks quietly, aware that Max always has her hair braided before she goes to bed. She digs one out of her pocket with a questioning look and he beckons for her to come closer, his face softening. “I’ll do it for you since your mom isn’t here tonight. You’ll just have to forgive me if it’s messy, okay?”

“Okay,” Max says, smiling as she perches awkwardly on Billy’s knee while he does his best to tame her hair. He draws her back into a hug once he’s done and, even when she accidentally manages to knock his bruised jaw, he can’t really find it in himself to care. It’s just nice to feel like they can be close for once; that any shred of comfort shared between them won’t be twisted into something horrible by Neil in his bid to destroy any positivity in their lives.

When Mrs Harrington reappears with a night gown for Max to borrow, Max seems hesitant to leave Billy’s side. Steve’s face is spectacularly bruised now but his expression remains fond as he watches the siblings. Billy strokes Max’s newly-braided hair in an attempt to calm her, smoothing a strand back gently where it was sticking to the hint of tears lingering on her cheek.

“Time for bed, Max,” Billy says, glancing towards the clock on the mantelpiece with a deepening frown. “It’s late.”

“Where are _you_ going to sleep, Billy, dear?” Mrs Harrington asks and Steve sighs as he steps closer to Billy, his arm winding around his waist.

“Mom,” Steve says, his hazel eyes faintly pleading. She looks confused for a moment before the realisation ripples across her face as she gasps quietly in shock.

“What is it?” Mr Harrington asks blankly. “Steve?” He looks at his son in confusion before he notices the way Billy is leaning into his warmth unconsciously; the way their fingers are tangled as Steve lets his cheek rest familiarly on the top of Billy’s head.

“Oh,” Mr Harrington says. “ _Oh_.” He seems to be thinking hard before he manages a tired smile that’s mirrored on his wife’s face. “Well, you boys should probably get to bed too. It seems you’ve had a very long day.”

“Of course,” Billy says, faint with how grateful he feels. “Let me just get Max settled. I’ll leave you three to talk.”

It’s clear Steve’s parents are bursting with this newfound knowledge and Billy feels guilty with how relieved he is to escape from the kitchen, although the guilt lessens somewhat when he sees the same relief saturating Max’s tired face.

She changes into the night gown quickly, pulling a face at the ruffles although she looks marginally more appeased by the time Billy is granted permission to turn in her direction again. He smiles at how disgruntled she looks, his blue eyes crinkling fondly as he crosses the dark room, pulling the blankets back from the couch.

“In you get,” he says softly, trying to appear calmer than he feels as she clambers onto the cushions. “Let’s get you comfy.” He tucks her in carefully, smoothing the blankets down although he falters when she reaches for his hand, squeezing it so tightly. In that moment, it’s painfully clear that they’re both scared and out of their comfort zone but at least they have each other. They haven’t been this close in years.

Billy sits down on the edge of the couch, his throat thickening with the tears building in his chest. After what feels like an age, he leans down and kisses her on the forehead.

“I’m so sorry, Max,” he whispers, his tears rolling free when she clings to him, her arms wrapping around him like a limpet. “For everything.”

The hug lasts for a long time and, when Max finally allows him to leave, Billy’s shirt is damp with Max’s tears. She looks unbearably small tucked under the blankets and Billy strokes her fiery hair back one more time before he rises from the couch, more tired than he can ever remember feeling.

Steve is waiting for him in the doorway, the light shining in golden behind him, looking like a goddamn angel. His hazel eyes are soft and damp with tears but he’s smiling a little so the conversation with his parents must have gone well. He proves it when he wraps an arm around Billy’s waist, pressing a gentle kiss to his bruised cheek.

They begin to climb the stairs wordlessly and Billy offers a watery smile when they finally reach Steve’s bedroom, the door clicking shut softly behind them. The silence grows as Steve sinks down onto the edge of his bed and Billy joins him after a moment, brushing his curls back ruefully.

“Knew you couldn’t win a fight,” Billy teases gently, bruised jaw throbbing, eyes gleaming with fondness.

“Don’t care, Billy-bear,” Steve says with an easy shrug. “Was worth it.”

Billy winces good-naturedly as he cradles Steve’s jaw in the dark, peering at the bruising.

“Your nose is busted, man,” he says, grimacing as the guilt rears its head once more. Steve kisses his frown away smoothly.

“Oh yeah?” he asks. “Are my looks ruined then?”

“Nah, pretty boy,” Billy says, smiling crookedly as his heart swells in his chest. “I’d definitely still fuck you. Might even let you fuck me again too, busted nose or not.”

Steve snorts with laughter before instantly regretting it if the pain blooming in his eyes is any indication.

“That’s big of you,” he says, lips quirking into a grin. “How self-sacrificing.”

Billy smiles; feels the fear rising inside but fights it down anyway.

“Love you too, maybe,” he offers, fast and small.

Steve’s hand is shaking when he entwines their fingers, his eyes glinting with hope.

“Maybe I love you too,” Steve replies, cheeks wet with tears, smiling too wide to kiss Billy properly. “Maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'd love to hear what you thought and I'll try not to take so long with the final chapter <3


	8. After Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm so sorry for the delay but I'm finally finished with this fic and I hope you'll enjoy the ending!

_And I've got my mind made up this time_

_‘Cause there's a menace in my bed._

_Can you see his silhouette?_

_Can you see his silhouette?_

_Can you see his silhouette?_

_And I've got my mind made up this time._

_Go on and light a cigarette._

_Set a fire in my head._

_Set a fire in my head tonight, tonight, tonight._

It’s Billy’s birthday. He’s eighteen and he’s happy, more or less.

The sheets of Steve’s bed are soft against his skin and Billy’s body aches pleasantly from the night before. Steve is warm pressed against his back, his lips grazing Billy’s cheek where he’s too lazy to move close enough to kiss him. The air feels thick as honey around them, making everything sweet and slow, and so perfect that Billy can barely breathe with how the love is filling him like sunlight.

“Morning, birthday boy,” Steve mumbles against the nape of his neck, lips curving into a smile, hand clumsily patting Billy’s chest under the blankets. “Ready for your presents?"

"Presents?" Billy repeats, smile growing. "Plural?"

"Well, one _real_ present," Steve says, grinning. "The second one is just a blowjob."

Billy laughs, blue eyes crinkling as he draws Steve in for a brief kiss before making grabby hands for his present. Steve rolls his eyes fondly as he reaches into the drawer of his bedside table, rifling around through the junk before he emerges with a small, messily-wrapped box.

The smile on Billy's face becomes infinitely softer as he sits up to open the present, his cheeks heating when Steve reaches to gently tuck a lock of hair behind his boyfriend's ear.

"You'll have more presents to open later," Steve says softly when Billy hesitates, his hazel eyes crinkling. "At your mom's new place, from her and Max before we go out for dinner."

That thought fills Billy with warmth - the knowledge that his tiny family is _finally_ safe - and he's still smiling when he finally tears the wrapping paper away.

A lump rises in Billy's throat when he sees the necklace nestled safely in its box. It's a St Christopher pendant and it's so beautiful. Billy gazes down at it in awed silence for so long that Steve begins to shift, clearly growing restless.

"I… I'm sorry if you don't like it," Steve blurts out, blushing. "It's just… I did some research and… well, they're believed to protect people, Billy." Steve's voice is earnest, his hazel eyes soft and blazing with sincerity. "From storms and lightning." Steve offers a watery smile. "St Christopher is the patron saint of travellers, Billy. If you wear this, maybe it'll keep you safe."

Billy’s eyes are wet with tears as he slips the necklace carefully over his head, unable to keep his emotions at bay.

It reminds him of California. So many of the surfers he knew used to wear them to keep them safe out on the waves and he doesn’t have the words to explain how precious this is as he draws Steve in for a soft kiss. They linger together long after they break apart, their cheeks damp as their fingers tangle together on the rumpled sheets.

"I love you," Billy chokes out, smiling through his tears. "So, _so_ much."

Steve lets out a relieved sob as he runs his fingers through Billy's hair, stroking the curls soothingly as their foreheads fall to rest together.

"I love you too, baby," Steve promises tearfully. "I have done since the beginning."

In that moment, Billy can see it all: their future unfurling in front of them.

They're going to run away together one day soon. They're gonna leave Hawkins behind and hide out somewhere they can be true to themselves. They're gonna smoke and listen to angry music and fuck, and Billy is gonna plait those flowers into Steve’s stupid hair and they’re gonna find a basketball team that’ll take them across the country, and they’re gonna fucking _live_ , finally, after everything.

Billy thinks they deserve that.

_Set a fire in my head tonight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to anyone who's stuck by this story through to the end.  
> I really hope you all enjoyed it and I'd love to hear what you thought. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to anyone who has read this so far :)  
> I'd love to hear what you thought <3


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